Shadow Play
by Kalsan
Summary: With Grissom caught up in the hunt for a serial killer, it's left to Jim Brass to search for the truth in a court case that threaten to destroy friendships and reputations. GSR. Set late season 7 minus TMK.
1. Chapter 1

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of CSI and am making absolutely nothing from this story.

* * *

Pulling the black Denali to a halt behind one of the LVPD patrol cars, Gil Grissom eyed the gathering crowd of onlookers already jostling for position at the long length of crime scene tape that ran across the front of the lot. He shook his head in amazement.

"Where the hell do they all come from?" Shoving the SUV into park, he turned the vehicle off and pulled the keys from the ignition. "It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is, rent-a-crowd always manages to beat us to the scene."

"From the look of it, most of them are working girls." Sara pointed out as she too, scanned the group. "With all the flashing lights and uniforms in the area I imagine business has pretty much ground to halt for them tonight. They've probably got nothing else to do."

"Not to mention that they may have a vested interest if the victim turns out to be one of their colleagues." Greg added from the backseat.

"She will be." Pushing open the driver's door, Grissom climbed out and headed towards the rear of the SUV. Joined seconds later by his two companions, he opened up the tailgate and allowed them to collect their kits before hauling out his own.

"How do you know she's a prostitute?" Greg asked as he eyed his boss curiously. "I saw the slip Judy gave you; all it said was a 419 at this address."

"That's right it did." Grissom agreed as he headed towards the scene. "And, believe me; I'd like nothing more than to be proven wrong because if she is a prostitute and we find what I think we're going to find-"

"Solving crime not enough for you now, Gil?" The familiar voice of Jim Brass cut Grissom off in mid-sentence. "You've started predicting it as well."

"I wasn't expecting you to be here, Jim; I thought you were handling Catherine and Warrick's murder/suicide?"

"I was." Brass admitted as he came to a halt in front of the three CSIs. "But, when I heard a call come over that sounded remarkably like something a certain night shift supervisor warned me about three days ago then you better believe I'm going to take it. The other scene's only a couple of blocks away anyway so I called Vartann in to cover for me and high-tailed it over here."

"A couple of blocks?" Sara asked, her interest piqued by the close proximity. "Any chance the two crimes are related?"

"I doubt it." Jim responded as he began to lead the group towards the front of the gas station. "That one is a definite domestic gone wrong but this one... well you'll see for yourselves."

"Let me guess." Grissom sighed. "Her throat's been cut and she has knife wounds to the abdomen?"

Grabbing hold of the crime scene tape, Brass held it up as he returned Grissom's stare. "Do I need to ask about your whereabouts tonight, Gil?"

"I've been in the lab since the start of shift." Grissom tried and failed to smother the amusement in his voice as he ducked underneath the yellow tape. "With plenty of witnesses to back that up I might add."

"You won't be offended if I check with them, will you?" Jim gave an almost embarrassed shrug. "You've got to admit this new talent of yours is a bit weird."

Without waiting for a reply, Brass led the three CSIs along the side of the building then rounded the corner into a small, paved area at the rear of the premises. He gestured towards the unmistakable shape of a body lying on the ground beside the back door just a few feet away.

"Well, there she is."

Placing his kit on the ground not far from the fence, Grissom pulled his flashlight from his vest pocket and swept it quickly around the area before moving closer and squatting down. His first look at the victim and her wounds confirmed his worst fears.

She appeared to be around fifty although, as Grissom knew, life on the streets of Las Vegas had a habit of prematurely aging a person. Lying face up on the concrete, over-dyed platinum blonde hair fanned out around her head, the victim was completely naked. Her clothing was scattered around her; a short leather skirt and what appeared to be a halter top, once white but now stained a deep, dark red from the blood that now saturated it. The only visible piece of jewelry was a small gold sleeper in her right earlobe; the left torn and bloody where the matching hoop had been viciously pulled out.

Sensing movement behind him, Grissom glanced back to see both Greg and Sara moving in for a closer look.

"Man, what a mess." Greg exclaimed as he looked down at the body in front of him. "It looks like whoever did this decided to start the autopsy without us."

Turning back to the victim, Grissom silently agreed.

Her throat had been cut twice, both incisions running straight across from ear to ear. Although unable to touch the body until it had been cleared, he had no doubts that at least one of the wounds would have severed the carotid artery. Moving the Maglite's beam further down, he illuminated the rest of the damage.

A deep, jagged tear ripped across her abdomen an inch or so above the pubic line while several neat incisions ran almost parallel to it and four similarly precise cuts ran vertically down her right side.

Sara sighed aloud as she took in the extent of the carnage. "Looks like overkill to me."

"Unfortunately it's not though." Grissom winced slightly as he got back to his feet. "It's exactly as it's meant to be; a perfect reproduction."

"Of what though?" Brass watched as Grissom stood, backing away from the victim to take in the scene as a whole before turning to address his colleagues.

"Sara, you and I will take the actual scene. Greg, I want you to start with the perimeters and work your way in." He glanced around the small yard. "It might pay to check the neighboring lots too; just make sure you take one of the uniforms with you when you go, alright?"

"I'm on it." Picking up his case, Greg started towards the front of the building but turned back when he heard Grissom call out.

"Oh and Greg? We're playing to an audience here so you know what that means don't you?"

"I'll get as many shots of the crowd as I can; if the killer's come back to watch the after-show, we're going to have his photo." Eager to get a start, the younger CSI turned and almost collided with David Phillips as the Assistant Coroner and his attendant made their way towards the scene.

Brass moved out of the way as David quickly maneuvered his gurney into the yard and lifted a small medical bag from it before approaching the body.

"Sorry we're late." He shot Grissom an apologetic smile as he dropped to his knees beside the victim. "I wanted to take Catherine and Warrick's victims back to the morgue before I came for this one."

"I don't think she's been dead too long, David, a lot of the blood around her is still wet." Grissom commented as he watched the younger man open up his bag.

"Liver temperature will tell us." David replied as he expertly slid the long metal probe between through the skin and into the organ. While he waited for the reading he leant in for a closer look at the throat wounds. "I think it's safe to say that cause of death is probably going to be exsanguination." He carefully opened one of the incisions with his gloved fingers. "If this was any deeper she would have been decapitated."

"Check that gash in her stomach for me, will you?" Grissom asked as he looked on. "Make sure nothing's missing."

After a puzzled glance towards Sara, David did as asked. "Everything looks okay but I guess we won't know for sure until the autopsy." Removing the thermometer, he made a note of the reading. "Given the ambient temperature and the fact that there are no signs of rigor mortis, I'd estimate that she's only been dead and hour or so."

Grissom checked his watch. "It's almost five o'clock now so the time fits." Oblivious to the strange looks his comment had drawn, he appeared to be deep in thought. Suddenly he frowned. "Al's off tonight, isn't he David?"

"That's right." Pulling out an alcohol wipe, David quickly cleaned off the thermometer before slipping it back in his bag. "Dr. Avery's covering for him."

"I've got nothing against Avery but I want Robbins to handle this one." Moving back towards the body, Grissom watched as Sara began taking close up photographs of the victim.

"When you get back to the morgue David, log her in and then wait for me; I'd like to be there when you process her. As soon as we've done that I'll give Al a call and see if he'll come in some time this afternoon to do the post." He swung back to address Sara. "Make sure that the rest of the team knows that I'm scheduling a meeting for 7:30pm in the layout room; that should give me enough time to get everything together so that I can bring you all up to speed before the start of shift."

Tired of being ignored and feeling very much as though he was being kept out of the loop, Brass decided he'd had enough.

"What the hell is going on here, Grissom? First you predict this murder and now you're orchestrating the whole investigation as though the lead detective doesn't even exist. You want to bring everybody up to speed? How about starting with me?"

"I'm sorry Jim; I honestly didn't realize I was doing that." Grissom's contrition was genuine. "What do you want to know?"

Bemused, Brass gestured around the scene. "Well, what it is we're looking at here would be nice; after all, you seem to know all about it."

"What we're looking at is the work of a serial killer." Leaning back against the wire cyclone fence that enclosed the yard, Grissom revised his statement. "Actually, it's more like two serial killers but only the second one is really of interest to us."

"A copy-cat!" Brass stated as realization dawned.

"That's right." Grissom nodded. "Back in April, the body of a prostitute was found dumped in some bushes on Lake Mead Boulevard."

Jim thought for a moment but couldn't place the case. "Did you handle it?"

"No, Days caught it." Grissom told him. "She had massive head wounds and appeared to have been the victim of an object rape although they never discovered what was used or, for that matter, any other evidence. There was no trace, no prints, no DNA; nothing at all to go on."

"Witnesses?"

"They never found any." Gil told him. "The other girls that worked that area had seen her about earlier that night but couldn't remember seeing her talking to anyone or getting into any cars; in fact, they couldn't even say for certain when they last saw her at all."

"Always helpful." Jim commented facetiously.

"Yeah." Grissom agreed. "The case was reviewed at the end of month supervisor's meeting, which is how I came to hear about it, but with nothing to go there wasn't much point in continuing the investigation unless new evidence came to light."

"But it wasn't new evidence that turned up, was it?" Brass guessed. "It was victim number two."

"Do you remember the victim earlier this month with multiple stab wounds?"

"If by multiple you mean forty then sure, I'm not about to forget that."

"It was thirty-nine actually." Grissom automatically corrected him. "Nick and Catherine handled that one and, once again, there was no evidence and no witnesses."

"Hang on, that one was about four weeks ago." Jim broke in. "If the two cases were connected, why am I only hearing about it now?"

"Because I only noticed the link a few days ago." Gil replied. "I was reviewing the open cases for the month when I noticed that the stabbing victim was missing an earring, it had been torn from her left earlobe but it was never found at the scene; then I remembered that the same thing happened to the April victim."

"And that lead you to connect the two cases?"

"It made me look closer and when I did, I realized that both crimes sounded familiar."

The conversation paused as both men watched David and his assistant carefully lift the victim into a body-bag before zipping it up and moving her to the gurney. As the trolley was guided back around the corner, Grissom resumed talking.

"I'd read very similar case files before; both victims then were prostitutes and they died in a very similar manner to our two vics."

Brass frowned. "How similar?"

"Almost identical." Gil gave a quick shrug. "The only real difference is that the original first victim didn't die until two days after she was attacked."

"But that was an object rape too?"

"Yes, the investigators in _that_ case never found out what was used either but the force exerted was enough to rupture her peritoneum; that was her COD. When I checked back to those original murders I also noticed that the dates were the same too; well, the days and months anyway."

Brass ran his hand across his mouth as his gaze turned from Grissom to the large blood stain that marred the concrete where their own victim had lain.

"So, that's how you knew what was going to happen tonight." It was more a statement than a question. "How you knew what we'd find."

"I suspected, Jim, I didn't know for sure." Gil pointed out. "If I had I would have brought it to your attention before now."

"Did they catch the original killer?" Jim's gaze followed Sara as she moved to her kit and replaced her camera with a handful of swabs.

"No." Grissom shifted uncomfortably, anxious to get on with helping Sara process the scene. "He's suspected of being responsible for at least five and possibly as many as eleven murders although some people believe the number could be even higher than that."

"Oh great, that's just what we need." Brass rolled his eyes at the new information. "So we've got another eight of these to look forward to."

"Unless we get lucky and catch him beforehand." Grissom pointed out as he pushed himself off the wire fencing. "Of course, if we don't stop him before he hits that number he might just decide to keep adding to the list."

Crossing to where he'd left his own kit he quickly picked it up, hoping that Brass would take the hint and let him do his job but Jim wasn't finished yet.

"Well, if they never caught this guy what makes you think we're dealing with an imitator?"

"If this is the work of the original murderer we've got a much bigger mystery on our hands than where the next body is likely to turn up."

"Why's that?"

"It's simple, Jim." Grissom smiled, knowing that with his next words Brass would be silenced and he could, finally, get on with things. "The original killer was Jack the Ripper."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 2**

"There you are!"

Comfortably seated in one of the visitor's chairs in Grissom's office, Jim Brass looked up from the newspaper he was perusing as the nightshift supervisor made a hurried entrance through the open doorway. "Another couple of minutes and I was going to send out a search party."

Juggling an armful of folders, along with three or four weighty-looking books, Grissom rounded the desk and carefully placed his load on top of the shelves that ran along the back wall before turning around to address his guest. "You want a coffee?"

"Uh, no thanks." Folding his paper, Jim dropped it onto the seat beside him as he watched Grissom heading for the door. "You do remember we're meeting Sara and Greg for breakfast, don't you?" He checked his watch. "In fact, we should have been there almost an hour ago."

"Damn, I forgot about that." Hesitating, Grissom decided the caffeine hit could wait and returned to his desk. "Okay, give me five minutes to get what I need and we'll head out; there's nothing more I can do here."

"No luck at the morgue?"

Turning his attention to the wall that contained his own extensive library, Grissom scanned the titles as he filled Brass in.

"David and I went over every inch of that body but, apart from some dirt and leaf matter that I'm willing to bet will match the samples Sara collected at the scene, we found absolutely nothing; it's just like the earlier cases."

"There are no defensive wounds?" Brass enquired. "Nothing to show she fought back?"

Pulling a book out, Grissom quickly scanned the back page before returning it to its place and reaching for its neighbor.

"No, nothing at all." Finally finding the tome he was after, he carried it over and added it to the pile he'd brought in with him. "No obvious signs of sexual assault either but I had David collect a SAE kit anyway just to make sure; I'm not expecting it though, apart from the first case there was almost no sexual aspect to any of the suspected Ripper murders."

Grabbing his briefcase off the floor, Grissom loaded it with the folders before balancing the five books precariously in the crook of his arm and turning to face Jim.

"Ready to go?"

"You want me to carry some of those?" Although the book's full titles were partially obscured, Brass could make out the words Ripper or Whitechapel in almost every one. "A bit of light reading, Gil?"

"We need to know as much as we can about the original murders if we're going to stand a chance with this new guy." Grissom didn't complain when Jim reached over and removed the top three books from his load. "I've been reading up on it since Monday but then David mentioned that Al had a few books on the subject in his office so I borrowed them."

"And the one you took from here?"

"A reference guide to prostitution in Victorian England." He gestured towards one of the books that Jim now held. "I only remembered I had it on the drive back from the morgue."

Pushing open the door with his shoulder, he waited for Brass to exit before stepping out into the bright morning sunlight himself. Squinting at the harsh glare, Grissom was grateful that the Mercedes was parked just a few spaces from the entrance and, after fumbling for his keys; he opened the door and placed his load on the passenger seat before turning round to take the others from Jim.

He was not overly surprised to see that the homicide captain had rearranged his own bundle of books and was now intently studying the inside cover of the title they'd just been talking about.

"Why on Earth _would_ you have a book like this in the first place?" Brass looked up from reading the blurb, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "19th century England and 21st century Vegas aren't exactly similar you know, Gil?"

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Grissom pulled out his sunglasses and donned them before taking the pile and adding it to those already in the car. Satisfied that his cargo was safe, he finally turned to answer Jim's question.

"You know that and I know that but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure that our killer does."

* * *

Having beaten Jim to the diner, Grissom leaned casually against the Mercedes, his back to the street, as he waited for his friend's, no doubt, imminent arrival.

He'd lost him at the lights on Eastern Avenue, the larger engined Mercedes coasting easily through an amber that Jim's three year old Dodge was forced to stop at. Grissom smiled as he remembered glancing in the rearview mirror to see the annoyed look on the detective's face as the considerably older, and impeccably maintained, German vehicle had powered ahead.

Turning at the sound of slowing traffic, he watched as Brass, followed closely by a black Subaru, swung in from the road and carefully parked beside him.

"Just as well the department doesn't issue those things." Grissom gave the Dodge a mock-contemptuous glare as Jim climbed out from behind the wheel. "I've seen golf carts with more grunt."

"Well, at least I drive American." Brass pointed out as he closed the driver's door then hit the lock button on his remote. As the Dodge flashed its lights and beeped, Jim directed his own glare at the Merc. "Which is more than I can say for you!"

"I have nothing against American cars." As Jim fell in beside him, Grissom headed towards the diner's door. "In fact, there's one in particular that I've always had a-"

"Doctor Grissom?"

Enjoying their light-hearted argument, neither man had paid any attention to the footsteps behind them until, just before they reached the building, Grissom heard his name called. Turning, he found himself face to face with a young black man he recognized as the driver of the Subaru that had arrived at the same time as Brass.

"Doctor Gilbert Grissom?" The man repeated, his face expressionless as he met Gil's curious gaze

"That's right." Grissom confirmed, wariness replacing curiosity as he saw the man's hand come up and reach into his jacket. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jim's own hand automatically move towards his holstered weapon.

"This is for you." Slamming a large buff colored envelope in Gil's hand, the man smiled pleasantly. "You've been served. Have a nice day."

Bemused, both Grissom and Brass looked on as the man wheeled away and hurried back to his car.

"Well." Jim gave a relieved chuckle. "That was different."

"Yeah." Grissom agreed as he read his name on the front of the envelope. "Guy must be new, usually they just turn up at the lab; I can't remember the last time I was hunted down by a process server."

Shrugging the incident off, he pulled the glass entrance door open and then followed Jim inside.

Pausing for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the interior, Grissom breathed in a sigh of relief as the diner's air conditioning washed over him; the last day of summer and, by the feel of it so far, it was going to be another scorcher.

Bypassing the counter with its array of occupied stools, they made their way further into the large room, both knowing from experience that Sara invariable chose a booth when she was first to one of their infrequent meals together. Seeing a familiar hand wave in their direction, Grissom raised his own in acknowledgement before leading Jim across the busy room towards their destination.

"We thought you'd forgotten us." Sara smiled in greeting as the two men came to a halt at the table, Grissom waiting for Jim to take a seat beside Greg before he himself slid in beside Sara.

"Sorry, it's my fault." Grissom admitted as he tossed the envelope in his hand onto the table in front of him. "Have you ordered yet?"

"Ordered and eaten." Greg told him. "I was just saying to Sara that it's was about time we called it a day and headed home." Realizing how that may have sounded, Greg tried to correct any wrong impressions. "I meant separately, of course. Sara goes to her home and I go to mine. I didn't mean to suggest that we were going home together, obviously; not that I would mind if Sara wanted to but I know she never would, not now that she has-"

Grissom's raised eyebrow stopped him in his tracks and Sara hurriedly tried to help the younger man out.

"It's alright, Greg, everyone knows what you meant." She smiled across him, hoping to ease his embarrassment. "It has been a long night and maybe we should all be thinking about getting some rest soon."

"Yeah, I think maybe I should be going now." Impatiently, Greg waited for Brass to get back out before sliding across the vinyl bench and getting to his feet. "There's a stop I want to make before I go home anyway. I guess I'll see you all tonight."

"Don't forget that meeting at 7:30, Greg?" Reaching across the table, Grissom snagged the menu and pulled it over. "I expect everyone there on time."

"I will be." The younger criminalist promised as he dug his car keys from his pocket. "I made sure that Nick and Warrick knew about it as well."

"And I told Catherine." Sara added as Greg raised a hand in silent farewell before turning and heading for the exit, Jim watching closely until the closing door hid him from view.

"Does he know about the two of you?" Jim asked as he turned back towards the table.

"That was a pretty impressive case of foot in mouth and he couldn't have backpedaled any faster if he'd tried."

"I don't think so." Sara gave her head a slight shake. "You know Greg, if he had caught on he'd never be able to keep it to himself; the whole lab would know by now."

"Don't bet on it." Grissom pointed out without looking up. "He's pretty protective of you, remember; I don't think he'd say anything if he thought he might be putting you at risk."

Sara thought for a moment.

"He did kind of overreact just then didn't he?" She frowned slightly. "Maybe I should sound him out about it, see if he does know something." Turning slightly on the bench, she addressed Grissom. "What do you think?"

"Honey, I told you from the beginning that who knows and who doesn't is all up to you." Grissom replied as he continued to study the menu. "Personally, I don't care if the whole world knows we're together but you're the one that stands to lose the most professionally if it turns out the Department, or more precisely – Conrad, doesn't like it."

"You think that's where the danger lies?" Jim asked, looking hopefully at a passing waitress. "With Ecklie and not the sheriff?"

"Without a doubt." Having decided what he wanted, Grissom slid the laminated menu across the table to Jim. "Burdick I can probably handle with a few well-placed threats but Conrad's going to see this as the perfect opportunity to get his hatchet out and, unfortunately, I don't think it's my scalp he'd go after first."

"Maybe I'll leave it for a while and just see what happens." Sara finally decided. "Greg's just tired and ended up over-talking; God, I used to do it all the time around you, remember?"

"Hopefully, Greg's cure will be somewhat different to the one you found." Jim commented with a grin; remembering the many times he'd been witness to Sara's, often amusing, nervous behavior around the man who was at that time _only_ her supervisor. He tried, and failed, to get the attention of the waitress as she hurried passed the booth. With a shrug of defeat, he turned to look at Gil.

"So, what exactly do we have to look forward to with these murders of yours?"

"I assumed you'd be coming to tonight's meeting, Jim." Grissom stated as he conducted a quick scan of the diner's other patrons. "I don't really think this is the time or place to be discussing the details of any of the murders; modern or otherwise."

"I will be coming." Jim assured him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. I just thought you give me a preview that's all; I'm kind of rusty when it comes to one hundred and thirty year old murder investigations. They never did solve that, did they?"

"By all accounts, they never even got particularly close." Grissom shrugged. "Well, that we know of anyway. There's been so much rumor and speculation about the case over the years that fact and fiction have become virtually interchangeable. Add into that, the books and films that have appeared and the truth has been almost totally obscured." He thought for a moment. "If you really do want to catch up before tonight, you can borrow one of the books I've got out in the car."

"Uh, no thanks, Gil." Jim raised both hands in mock defeat. "I've seen the kind of books you read and I don't really want to spend my day wading through one of them."

"Actually, I was thinking about one of the ones I grabbed from Al's office" Sliding off the bench, Grissom got to his feet. "Most them are textbooks but this one is a general non-fiction book; you shouldn't have any problems with it."

"The Idiots Guide to Jack the Ripper?"

"Something like that, yeah." Grissom conceded.

"Sounds like my kind of book then." Jim's face broke into a broad grin. "As long as it's got plenty of pictures, I should be just fine."

"I'll go grab it; it'll only take a minute." Grissom said as he stepped back from the table. "If you manage to order while I'm gone, I'll have the scrambled eggs and I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

"He's in a good mood." Jim commented as tried, once again to get the attention of a passing waitress.

"He is, isn't he?" Sara smiled back. "I think having his theory confirmed has actually come as a relief. It's nice to see him relax a bit; he's been on edge ever since that supervisor's meeting."

Picking up the envelope Grissom had left, she stared at the front, her brow creasing into a frown as she studied it. "What's this?"

"A process server caught up with Gil out in the parking lot." He told her before he returned to glaring at the woman behind the counter. "Probably just someone appealing their sentence I imagine." Seeing the woman nod in his direction, Jim slumped against the padded backrest in triumph. "Finally!"

"I don't think this is any appeal." Catching movement near the door, she looked up to find Grissom returning, book in hand. He slipped back into the booth before handing over the book in his hand. "There you go, Jim; that should help to bring you up to speed."

The book had barely left his hand before Sara refilled it with the envelope. "I really think you need to open that."

"There's no rush, it can wait until tonight. It should have been delivered to the lab anyway; it's got to go through Legal before it comes to me."

"If it was from the courts we usually deal with I'm sure it would have been." Sara told him curtly as she gestured once again at the small package. "That is from the Family Court, Gil; it's marked private and confidential."

"What?" Turning it in his hand, he examined the front again. "We don't have any cases involving the Family Court, do we?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"So, what the hell do they want with me?"

Grissom tore open the envelope and pulled out the covering letter. Reading the first few paragraph, he was suddenly glad that breakfast hadn't yet been ordered; there was no way known he'd be able to get it down now.

Sitting across the table, Jim saw the stunned look on his friend's face and decided a little teasing was in order. "What is it, Gil? Someone suing you for child support?"

"They don't have to." Grissom replied woodenly. "Apparently I've already signed an admission of paternity." He looked up from the letter. "The state's going to begin deducting payments from my salary next week."

Sara almost snatched the letter out of his hand to read for herself as he removed the rest of the envelope's contents. He searched through looking for something in particular.

"You're joking!" Brass exclaimed, his attention switching back and forth between his two friends. "How old is this kid?"

Grissom found what he was looking for and, ignoring Jim's question, read through it. When he'd finished he closed his eyes and tried taking a few deep breaths.

"Shit! I don't believe this." Opening his eyes again, he turned to face Sara, aware that she still hadn't spoken. "You know this isn't true, don't you?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

Remaining silent, Sara reached over and took the form he was still holding. She read through it twice, stopping only to study the signatures. Placing it to one side, she pulled the remaining paperwork towards her and began methodically working her way through that too.

Brass was growing impatient. "You never answered me, Gil. How old is the kid?"

Grissom thought for a moment. "Um... six months."

"Wow! It was about six months ago that you took your sabbatical, wasn't it?" Brass stared across the table at Grissom. "So, what? You told everyone you were teaching a course at Williams when you were really on paternity leave?"

"You're not helping matters, Jim." Grissom turned his attention to Sara until, finally, she put the last sheet of paper down and looked back at him.

"You know, all these signatures look identical to yours."

"But they're not!" He assured her. "I promise you, Sara, I never signed any of those."

"I know he's not yours." Reaching out for his hand, she gave it a squeeze. "She sure has gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look that way though. He even has your last name."

"So, it's a boy?" Brass asked, curiosity raging.

"Yes." Sara picked up a copy of the birth certificate. "Caleb Andrew Grissom."

"Well, for a lapsed Catholic you've certainly gone very biblical in naming your son, Gil" Jim smiled across the table, clearly enjoying his friend's discomfort.

"Hilarious, Jim." Grissom's tone was bitter as he turned his attention back towards his friend. "I'm about to start paying out-" Flicking through the paperwork, he searched for the figure. "Over eight hundred dollars a month on a child that isn't mine and you find it funny?"

Brass suddenly realized he'd gone too far and, raising both hands as if in surrender, he instantly sobered up.

"I'm sorry, Gil, it isn't funny; I know that." Watching Grissom collect together the contents of the envelope, he tried to redeem himself. "It'll be a mistake, that's all. We'll ask around and find out how to handle this type of thing and it'll all be sorted out before you know it."

"Oh, it'll be sorted out, alright." Grissom promised as he waved off the just arrived waitress. "I hope you don't mind if I cancel breakfast; It looks look I'll have to spend the morning trying to find a lawyer instead."

"I'll come with you." Concerned, Sara slid out of the booth to stand beside him.

"No!" Anger still simmering, Grissom knew that what he needed more than anything was to be left alone until he calmed down again. "You go home and get some sleep; I'll head back to the office and make some phone calls. Hopefully, I can get this whole mess fixed before she starts draining my bank account."

"You know the mother?" Brass didn't really want to antagonize the situation any more than he already had but the curiosity was killing him.

"Oh yeah, I know her alright." With a cold smile, Grissom extracted the birth certificate from the other paperwork in his hand and held it out for Jim's inspection. "Congratulations, you're a grandfather."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 3**

Making his way along the corridor of the crime lab, Jim Brass eyed the closed door and blinds of the office up ahead and knew that he'd found his quarry.

He'd held off on tracking Grissom down until now, knowing from experience that it would be better for his friend to work through his feelings alone. Any attempt at an earlier meeting would, most likely, have turned into another confrontation and that was the last thing that either of them needed. But now, hours later, he knew it was time, personally and professionally, to make the first move.

Arriving at the threshold, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he lifted one hand and rapped sharply on the doorframe before opening the door and poking his head inside.

"Is it safe for me to come in?"

"That depends on what you're here for." Seeming unsurprised at the intrusion, Grissom barely glanced up from the file he was reading. "If you've just come to laugh some more then I really wouldn't bother if I were you."

The tone wasn't exactly welcoming but neither was it particularly hostile and Brass guessed that his friend had spent the day coming to terms with the morning's revelation. With an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, he eased into the office fully before closing the door behind him and took a seat in front of the desk.

"Laughter's over." He promised as he made himself comfortable in the chair. "As a friend I never should have joked about it in the first place and, as the father of the woman doing this to you... I don't know what to say, Gil; I can't, for the life of me see what Ellie would have to gain by making up this rubbish."

"That makes two of us then." Closing the file, Grissom pushed it away. "Did you even know she was pregnant?"

"Hell no." Brass gave a weary sigh. "I haven't seen or heard from Ellie in months." He thought for a moment. "Actually, it would be even longer than that; I can't remember having any contact with her at all since I-"

"Was in the hospital?" Gil interrupted. "Yeah, I remember it well; I would though, wouldn't I? Apparently that's when my son was conceived."

Grissom's voice left no doubt that he although the anger had abated, the bitterness had not and Brass chose not to comment on the remark. Instead, leaning forward slightly, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the vacant seat beside him before sitting back as he regarded his friend.

"I called the townhouse looking for you earlier." Jim made sure his own tone was conversational as he spoke. "Sara said you hadn't been home at all today."

"I didn't think there was much point." Checking his watch, Grissom noted that it was coming up for 6pm. "I had to meet with the attorney and then Al agreed to come in at three to do the autopsy." He shrugged wearily. "I was too wound up to sleep anyway; I would have just ended up disturbing Sara and then neither of us would have gotten any rest."

"Have you called her yet?" Jim's conversation with Sara had been short but her anxiety had been more than evident over the phone; it wasn't all that long ago that they'd almost lost Grissom to burn out and Sara's concern was contagious. "She seemed worried when I spoke to her."

Appreciating the protective streak that the homicide detective had always harbored towards his lover, Grissom's attitude immediately softened.

"I talked to her half an hour ago, Jim." Relaxing back in his own chair, Grissom managed a smile. "Don't worry; Sara's fine."

"That's good." Jim nodded his approval before cautiously asking his next question.

"So, you found a solicitor then?"

"Rachel Adams." Grissom told him. "Maddie Klein gave me her name." As Jim's raised eyebrows, Grissom explained. ""I know plenty of criminal lawyers but family law is different. I didn't really want to start asking for recommendations around here so, in the end, I called Maddie to see if she knew someone."

"And Adams is good?"

"She and Maddie were in law school together; they've known each other for years." Grissom shrugged. "I spent a couple of hours with her; she seems to know her stuff."

"And?"

"I haven't seen the full file yet, Rachel couldn't get a copy of it until late this afternoon but, at first glance, Ellie's tied me up nice and tight. With my signature on both the birth certificate _and_ the paternity acknowledgement it's an open-and-shut case as far as the Family Court is concerned: I've admitted that the child is mine and now it's time to start paying for him."

He surprised Brass with a short, incredulous laugh.

"Apparently, if I'd found out about it a couple of months ago it, I could have just rescinded the Acknowledgement and forced the court into ordering DNA tests but Ellie was smart enough to hold off on her claim until after that time limit was up; for all intents and purposes I am the legal father of Caleb Andrew Grissom."

"That's ridiculous." Brass shook his head in amazement. "She can't get away with this."

"Oh, it gets better." Grissom told him dryly. "Since paternity has now been legally established not only does she get to come after me for support, she also gets to bill me for medical costs related to the pregnancy and birth _and_ both she and the baby are about to be added to my health insurance coverage."

Brass sat silently as he absorbed the information, then remembering Grissom's choice of words, he looked enquiringly at his friend. "You said 'at first glance'; what's hidden underneath?"

"The truth." Grissom smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "The first step is filing an appeal with the Family Court, Rachel believes we should be able to get a preliminary hearing before the first payment is due; if we can establish to the judge that it is not my signature on those forms, the court will order the testing now and the support order will be put on hold until the results are back."

Relief flooded through Jim as he realized that perhaps this was not going to be as complicated to set right as he'd feared. "And after that?" He asked hopefully.

"There is no after that; not for me anyway." Grissom told him. "I'll be cleared, Ellie's little game will be exposed and she can go after the _real_ father of her child."

"If she even knows who it is." Brass commented, anger sweeping through him as he thought of his daughter and her lifestyle. Suddenly, a thought struck him. "Are we even sure this kid exists?"

"You saw the birth certificate, Jim." Grissom pointed out. "According to that he was born February 16 at Desert Palm."

"Yeah, but that's the same certificate that names you as the daddy." Jim shook his head. "Ellie's a scam artist; I should know I've been falling for it for years but not this time, not without proof."

Grissom sighed, well aware of the Brass family history. "Well, I guess we'll find out when the court orders the testing but until then there's not really anything else we can do."

Jim was silent for a second before looking up with a grin as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Actually, maybe there is."

* * *

After pouring out two cups of coffee, Grissom picked them up and made his way out of the break room and back to his office. The building was quiet, the members of swing shift either out in the field or busily tucked away in one lab or another and Gil had the hallway to himself. Nearing the open door, he could just make out Jim's voice as he concluded his phone call, his disappointment clear even from a distance.

"No luck?" Grissom asked as he placed a cup in front of Brass before rounding the desk to his own seat.

"I was trying to contact Annie Kramer over at LAPD." Jim told him as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "She's been keeping... an unofficial eye on Ellie for me; if anybody will be able to give me a clue as to what's going on, Annie will." Picking up his cup, he took a sip. "Unfortunately, she's out of town this weekend though; won't be back until Monday."

"Worth a try." Grissom told him. "At least she may be able to tell us what Ellie's been getting up to recently." Cradling his own cup, he looked across the desk at his friend. "You know, I don't think I'm the real target here, Jim. I spent an hour, maybe two, at the most with Ellie when she was out here." He shrugged. "Now I know I pissed her off when I refused to give her access to your house but I doubt she holds that big a grudge against me. It's got to be directed at you." He managed a chuckle. "I mean, look at the trouble this has already caused and there are only three of us that know about it. Imagine what it would be like if it became public knowledge."

"You plan on telling the team what's going on?"

"I don't plan on telling anyone; I trust the guys to keep it quiet but I also think that the less people that know about this the better." Grissom shook his head. "The grapevine around here has more than enough to keep it busy without adding this to the mix."

"Okay, it's your decision." Jim told him. "I just thought- "

He was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing and watched as, with a sigh, Grissom pulled his from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Grissom."

There was silence as the caller spoke and Jim watched as Gil's jaw tightened slightly as he listened intently to the phone.

"No, I need you here tonight." Seeing Brass watching him, Grissom rolled his eyes impatiently.

"I don't care; I really can't spare you at the moment so, unless you can provide me with a medical certificate stating that you are one hundred percent incapable of doing your job, I expect you in here for the start of shift tonight along with everyone else."

He paused again as his caller spoke.

"Good; I'll see you then." Pulling the phone away from his ear, he hit the disconnect button.

"Problem?" Jim asked as he drained the last of his coffee.

"Just Hodges trying to get the night off." Closing his phone, Grissom tossed it carelessly on the desk. "I let him get away with it last night but two in a row is asking too much. I want continuation on this investigation; if we're going to catch an early break with it, it'll be because we've gone over everything with a fine tooth comb and I want the same people working each and every case. No exceptions."

"That makes sense." Jim agreed. "Did you speak with the dayshift supervisor about taking over the first case?"

"Yeah, he's happy to have it off his books; Conrad's been in meetings with the sheriff all day but I'll clear it with him in the morning." Checking the time again, Grissom got to his feet. "I guess I'd better get the layout room ready before everyone arrives. I'm going to be popular enough as it is calling everybody in early for a meeting without making them wait because I don't have things ready."

"You need a hand?" Draining the last of his coffee, Jim left the cup on the desktop as he rose to his feet and shrugged into his jacket.

"Thanks for the offer but Sara said she'd be in early to help out." Looking up, Grissom checked the hallway expectantly. "In fact, she should be here any minute."

"Well then, I'll leave you to it." Heading towards the door, Jim took hold of the handle before looking back. "I'll swing by my office and see if Vega's come up with anything on our vic yet; I left him trawling through the Vice files when I left so he should have something by now."

"Okay, I'll see you back here in about an hour." Grissom told him as he quickly sorted through the files that covered his desk. Hearing the door open, he looked up as Jim stepped back into the hallway. "Oh, and Jim?"

He waited for Brass to turn back before continuing.

"Thanks for not believing the evidence today; I really appreciate it."

"I think you're forgetting something, Gil." Stepping back towards the doorway, Brass checked the corridor for potential eavesdroppers before breaking into a smile. "I know the two of you very well and, trust me; I'd take your word over Ellie's any day of the week."

* * *

Following the glass-lined corridor back out to the reception area, Jim Brass, once again, ran through the day's events in his head. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't make sense of what Ellie had done or why she was doing it in the first place.

For the most part he agreed with Grissom's assessment; her actions were designed for him and him alone. Ellie had spent years looking for attention and had tried every way possible of getting it; compared to some of her other efforts this one could almost be seen as mild but dragging Gil into it the way she had couldn't be ignored and neither could the possibility that the child actually did exist.

Pushing through the heavy door that led out to the car park, Jim made a decision: first they'd get this paternity suit cleared up and then he'd sort his daughter out once and for all.

**TBC**

**A/N: **I promised myself when I started this that I would try and be as regular as possible with each chapter without actually committing to a set schedule but I certainly had no intention of letting nearly two and a half weeks go by between posts, particularly so early in the piece. I apologize for that but it's been a weird couple of weeks and with an almost 3 month old distraction to keep me busy, it really couldn't be helped. I do promise though to try and not let it blow out so much in future.

Thank you for reading and special thanks to my reviewers; I really do appreciate your comments and support.


	4. Chapter 4

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 4**

The large table that occupied the middle of the layout room was awash in crime scene photographs as the six members of the graveyard shift sat around it, listening intently to the preliminary autopsy report. Two of the rooms walls had been decorated with large sheets of paper, each one dedicated to a murder; the back wall detailing the Victorian victims whilst the front was devoted to the more recent Vegas killings.

"The official cause of death is blunt force trauma to the side of the head." Glancing over the top of his glasses, Doctor Albert Robbins surveyed his audience. "The killer knew what he was doing; a tap to that particular spot is more than enough to turn someone's lights out, a full hard swing, which is what this was, and she was dead before she hit the ground."

"Thank God for that." Nick commented as he looked down at the photos in front of him. "I don't think anyone would want to be alive while someone carved into their stomach like that."

"Actually, the throat slashing came next." Robbins looked back down at the file he held. "Two very deep, very deliberate cuts; both the carotid artery and the jugular vein were completely transected. The abdominal wounds were last."

"But it was the BFT that killed her?" Grissom asked as he scribbled quickly on the notepad in front of him.

"Definitely." Robbins affirmed. "She would have been dead before the knife came anywhere near her."

"How... similar would you say the injuries are between the original victim and this one?" Catherine asked.

"Well, for obvious reasons we don't have photographs from the original autopsy for direct comparison but, going by the reports and descriptions I've read, I'd be prepared to say that they're very close; I think it's safe to say that there are no coincidences at work here."

"All three of our victims mirror their Victorian counterparts closely." Grissom spoke up. "The only real variation we're seeing is the head trauma; at a guess, he lures them somewhere quiet, gets behind them and then let's fly with whatever it is that he's using."

Robbins nodded his agreement. "At this point we don't a clue as to what that is." Gesturing towards a photograph of the exposed skull, he ran his finger around the edge of a bloody impression in the bone. "I've got David preparing the skull now so hopefully we'll be able to get a mould made from that."

Warrick shifted his attention from the photographs to the poster-size write-up of the original crime. "So, we really do have a Jack the Ripper wannabe?"

Grissom opened his mouth to answer but was beaten to the punch by Greg.

"Actually, it's the Whitechapel Murders that seem to be the inspiration not just The Ripper." Suddenly realizing that he'd jumped in ahead of his boss, he cast a nervous glance at Grissom. "After listening to you explain your theory this morning, I stopped at a store on the way home and picked up a couple of books."

"That's good, Greg; I'm impressed." Giving the younger man an encouraging smile, Grissom gestured towards the rest of the team. "You want to explain the difference?"

"The Whitechapel Murders were a series of eleven homicides that occurred in London's East End between April 1888 and February 1891." Reaching hurriedly into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small notebook and flipped it open. "Evidence suggests that the first 'Whitechapel' victim was actually attacked by three men and the police at the time thought the second one was murdered by a soldier then on the final day of August 1888, Mary Ann Kelly was found dead in a back street. She was the first of what is now known as the 'canonical five'; the five victims that, it's universally agreed were killed by Jack the Ripper."

"Sorry I'm late." Entering the room, Jim Brass scanned the area for an empty chair and seeing none, leaned awkwardly against the edge of the table. "I got caught up over at PD."

"Take my seat, Jim; I should be getting back." Grabbing his crutches, Robbins carefully got to his feet. "I'll let you know as soon as that skull's ready to be worked on."

"Thanks Al." Grissom replied as Brass settled himself in the newly-vacant seat.

"Okay, we've got an ID on our victim." Pulling his notebook from his jacket pocket, he opened it up and began to read. "Vanessa Renner, age 43, moved here from Philly about six months ago. She'd been picked up a couple of times for solicitation, the most recent four weeks back but that's all we could find. I've got her last known address so, hopefully, we'll have more on her shortly."

"Should have stayed in Philadelphia." Catherine commented, her eyes locked on the photograph of Renner. She frowned slightly then turned towards Grissom. "All of the Ripper's victims were prostitutes, correct?"

"That's right." He confirmed.

"And our first three were so it stands to reason that the rest will be." She looked from Grissom to Brass. "Maybe we could warn them; I mean, if this killer is set on copying the Ripper murders then at least we know _when _he's going to strike. We could let them know the dates and suggest that they keep off the streets on those particular nights."

"How about a curfew? No prostitutes on the streets between dusk and dawn." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Jim's voice. "If I'm not mistaken local government's been trying to make that happen for as long as there's been a Vegas."

Catherine bridled at his tome. "But if they know what's out there... "

"Oh they know, Catherine." Realizing he'd angered her, he tried to soften his words with a smile. "They're all aware of the risks but most of the girls have kids to feed or a pimp on their back or both and they can't afford to take a night off just because we tell them it's not safe." He shrugged, helplessly. "We'd never be able to convince them that we're doing it in their best interests anyway; you know what they think of the cops around here."

"Actually, there may be a way of getting the word out via someone else, someone they trust." Grissom quickly jotted himself a note. "Just let me check a few things first and then we'll see if we can set something up."

They all started at the unexpected ringing of a cell phone and Grissom quickly fumbled through his pockets before extracting the offending instrument. He gave them an apologetic smile as he flipped it open.

"Grissom." There was silence in the room as he listened to his caller. "Can you hold on for a moment, Rachel; I can't talk here."

Sara and Jim's eyes met across the table as both recognized the name.

With one hand clamped over the phone's mouthpiece, Grissom got to his feet. "Greg, since you've been studying up on the history of this thing, how about giving everyone else a refresher course while I'm gone? Let them know what we could be facing."

"Sure, I can do that." Pleased at the recognition, Greg hurried around the table to the front of the room.

"I shouldn't be long." Grissom announced as he headed for the corridor, the cell phone rising back up to his ear as soon as he cleared the doorway. Eyebrows rose in interest as they all watched him head along the corridor towards his office.

"Think that's his new girlfriend?" Nick asked as they heard the unmistakable sound of a closing door further up the hallway.

"I don't think so, Nick." Catherine commented as she turned her attention back to the room. "If he does have a girlfriend, she's not about to phone him here. You know what Grissom's like; there's work and then there's private and never the twain shall meet."

"Hey, come on." The Texan pleaded his case. "He's seeing someone; it's been pretty obvious for a while now."

Watching from his seat across the table, Brass saw Sara shift slightly in her seat, obviously uncomfortable at the way the conversation was heading. Pretending to glance down at his watch, he did his best to change the subject.

"Can we get on with this please? It's going to be a long enough night as it is without spending half of it listening to you lot speculating on Grissom's love life."

"Hey, it's not like we do it all the time." Warrick jumped to his colleague's defense. "Griss plays his cards pretty close to his chest; it's not often we get a chance to gossip about the man."

"Well don't think you're doing it now." Sitting up straighter, Jim tried to look stern. "I don't know about the rest of you but some of us have work to do tonight."

"Jim's right." Sara smiled across at Greg who was waiting patiently at the front of the room. "Come on guys, Greg's waiting to get started."

"Thank you." With a nod of appreciation for both Sara and Jim, Greg gestured towards one of the large pin-ups. He was about to speak when Grissom appeared in the doorway.

"Sorry." Gil shot the younger man an apologetic smile before addressing Brass. "Jim, I need to see you in my office." Turning quickly, he didn't wait for a reply.

Standing up, Brass shrugged. "Carry on Greg; I'll catch up when I get back."

Greg sighed heavily as another member of his audience exited the room. "At the rate things are going there won't be much to catch up on."

"So what's your guess now, Nick?" Warrick piped up. "Ménage à trios?"

"Oh, now there's a picture I didn't need to see." Catherine commented dryly as Nick laughed at his friend's suggestion.

Sara shook her head in exasperation and let the talk wash over her. Keeping her relationship with Grissom quiet had been a struggle but it was at times like this when she was glad that none of their colleagues knew. The suggestive jibes currently flying around were bad enough; she could only imagine what it would be like if the truth came out.

Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to find Greg studying her, his expression sympathetic as he returned her weak smile. Then, after shooting her a reassuring wink, he picked up a pen and tapped it smartly against the closest of the large posters as he cleared his throat to gain his colleagues attention.

"Okay guys; let's meet Ripper victim number four."

Exhaling a breath she hadn't been aware of holding, Sara knew then that Jim's earlier speculation abut Greg had been correct: someone at the lab _did_ know her secret.

* * *

Snapping his cell phone closed, Grissom tossed it carelessly onto his desk before heading to the small refrigerator and pulling out two bottles of water. He held one out to Brass as he casually leaned against the side of the desk.

"That was Rachel Adams."

"Yeah, I got that much." Brass told him as he cracked open the bottle. "I take it there's a problem."

"You could say that." Gil confirmed. "She got a copy of the court file a couple of hours ago; it seems Ellie lodged a domestic violence statement against me when she filed the claim."

"She what?" Brass frowned, confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that the court is prohibited from giving out any information that could identify where Ellie and the child are living; in fact, Rachel can't get any information about them at all."

"Well..." Jim began. "That shouldn't be too big a problem; she has to be around here somewhere so I'll just run a check on her when I get back to the office. I don't know why I didn't think of it before; a nice, friendly visit from dear old dad might be all that's needed to get Ellie to stop this rubbish once and for all."

"That's not going to be an option, Jim." Gil winced as he prepared to pass on the rest of the solicitor's news. "While she was at the court, one of the clerks tipped Rachel off about something else; apparently an application was lodged late this afternoon asking for restraining orders against both of us."

"You're joking."

"Believe me" Grissom assured him. "That is definitely something I wouldn't joke about."

Jim stared blankly at the array of framed insects that decorated the back wall as he processed the news. Finally, his gaze returned to Grissom. "This is getting ridiculous; what the hell does she think she's playing at?"

Grissom shrugged. "She's asking for no-contact orders so, even if we did know where she was it wouldn't do us any good."

Jim gave it some thought. "The applications haven't gone through yet?"

"No, according to Rachel they'll probably go before a judge sometime Monday morning; we'll probably be served with them that afternoon."

"But until then, there's nothing to stop me running that check." Jim clenched his teeth against the that he felt building. "In fact, there's absolutely nothing to stop me finding her and then going around there and- "

"And playing straight into her hands." Grissom finished for him. "Ellie's doing enough damage all by herself, Jim; we don't need you helping her out."

"So, I just let her hit us with this?" Brass asked plaintively. "I'm a police officer for God's sake; how is this going to look to everyone in the department?"

"Hopefully, they won't have to know" Grissom told him. "I thought you and I could meet with Burdick and let him know what's going on; with some luck, we'll still be able to keep a lid on this thing."

"Yeah, maybe." Jim took a deep breath. "So, I guess that means the child does actually exist after all then?"

"I don't think there's any doubt." Gil stated. "Things wouldn't have come this if he'd just been a figment of Ellie's imagination; Caleb exists all right and she is obviously his mother."

Brass sighed heavily. "So what do we do now?"

"The original plan still stands." Gil told him. "On Monday morning, Rachel will file an appeal with the Family Court based on the fraudulent signatures; she's lined up a handwriting analyst who's willing to do a comparison over the weekend so there shouldn't be any trouble getting the judge to put a hold on the case pending DNA testing." He shrugged. "After that, the burden of proof is all on Ellie."

"Why would she pin this on you though?" Brass was genuinely puzzled. "It's not like any of us rakes in a fortune working for the city."

"I have other avenues of income though, remember; courses, seminars, the occasional book royalty." Gil counted them off on his fingers. "Not that Ellie would have known that at the time but I'm sure it was a nice little bonus for her when she found out." He shrugged his shoulders. "Why, I can't really tell you but how I can guess at. Around about the time you were in the hospital, my wallet went missing. I just assumed I'd mislaid it round the house somewhere and didn't really worry when it didn't turn up; I replaced my cards and license and never gave it another thought but I guess now we know where it went. Ellie must have lifted it one of the times I dropped her off at her motel."

"Which would have given her access to a lot of your personal information; everything she needed to get the ball rolling with his claim." Jim thought for a minute. "I want to help you out with this, Gil; legal fees, paying for the testing, hell, I'll quite happily get up in court and testify on your behalf if that's what it takes."

"I appreciate it, Jim, I really do but how about we wait and see what Monday brings? If everything goes according to plan we could be the ones serving Ellie with papers before the end of the week; if she complies with the DNA order it could all be wrapped up in a matter of weeks."

"And if she doesn't?"

"As long as we get a freeze put on that support order, it actually doesn't matter if she does or not; she won't be getting anything without scientific proof that I am Caleb's father."

After taking a mouthful of water, Jim allowed himself a slight chuckle as he looked across at Grissom incredulously. "You know, I think it's just sunk in – I have a grandson."

"I would say I'm happy for you but under the circumstances..."

"Yeah, of course." Brass instantly sobered. "How's Sara taking it?"

"We haven't really had a chance to discuss it." Gil told him. "I'm just glad that she knows me well enough not to believe that any of this is true." Finishing the last of his drink, Grissom toss the empty bottle in the waste bin as he headed for the door. "Sara and I made a decision when we started this relationship that children would never play a part in it and the last thing we need is a kid coming between us; especially when it belongs to somebody else."

Stunned by both the unexpected statement and the vehement tone with which it was delivered, Jim could only stare after his friend as Grissom pulled the door open and headed off down the corridor.

* * *

Making the short journey from his office to the layout room, Grissom allowed himself a small smile as the familiar figure of David Hodges heading along the hallway from reception.

"Evening, David." He greeted the approaching man pleasantly, their earlier phone conversation all but forgotten.

"If you say so." The brusque tone and sullen glare Hodges shot him brought Grissom to a halt as the lab tech brushed by him and turned into the locker room.

Catching up with his friend, Jim's eyebrows rose as the locker room door was slammed shut. "Well someone's in a mood."

"He's been like that for weeks now." Grissom admitted. "I'm going to have to do something about it, if he keeps this up much longer it's going to start affecting his work."

"Better you than me." Jim glanced at his watch. "Okay, let's get this briefing wrapped up and maybe we can get some real work done."

* * *

Greg was still speaking as they entered the room and both men quietly took their seats as he finished up.

"Any questions?" The young criminalist asked, looking hopefully at his colleagues but Catherine was the only one to speak.

"Do we really think our killer will stop with the last of the canon victims?"

He was about to reply when Grissom got to his feet. "I've got this one, Greg; thank you." He waited for the young man to sit down again before answering the query.

"The killings in Vegas began with the first of the Whitechapel murders so logic dictates that he's probably going to try and emulate all of them; there is, however, one thing that may get in his way: next year is a leap year and that throws the dates off and for someone who apparently likes his crimes to be a carbon copy of the original that might just be enough to stop him in his tracks."

"So, how many murders would we be looking at if he does call it quits because of that?" Warrick asked.

"Eight." Grissom admitted. "But we have no guarantee of that of course; he may disregard history all together and decide to go his own way or we might just get lucky and catch him before this whole thing gets too far out of hand."

"Let's hope so." Catherine remarked as she looked, once again, at the victim's photos. "How do you plan on working this?"

"At first glance, we've got next to nothing to go on but I refuse to believe that we've got three murders and no evidence which is why we're going to go over all three of them again."

Reading from his notepad, Grissom started handing out assignments.

"Sara and Greg, I want you to go over everything from last night's scene again. I want anything you find, no matter how innocuous it seems, to be sent for testing." He looked on as both nodded their understanding. "We've got some of the best lab techs in the country working right here so make use of them."

Turning slightly in his chair, he address Nick and Warrick. "I want you two to do the same with the earlier cases; everything needs to be rechecked."

"Got it, boss." Warrick reached over and took the two case files that Grissom held out to him.

"We also need to look into the backgrounds of all three victims to see if there's a link that we're missing: same pimp, problem client, they all lived in the same apartment block, whatever; we need complete rundowns on all of them. Cath, I thought and Jim could handle that part."

Catherine nodded her assent. "And what about tonight's cases?"

"Hopefully, there won't be any." Grissom scanned his checklist to ensure he hadn't missed anything. "If anything urgent comes up we'll deal with it but everything else will get shunted onto Days. We've got a week before this guy is due to kill again so as far as I'm concerned, this case takes priority."

With his back to the door, Grissom was unaware of the approaching figure but almost everyone else in the room saw it and curious looks were exchanged as its destination became clear. It was only hearing a gasp from Sara that caused him to look up but his view of her was almost instantly obscured as a very large blue teddy bear was carefully placed on the table in front of him.

"Good evening, Gil." The unmistakable voice of Conrad Ecklie seemed unnaturally loud in the now silent room. "I understand congratulations are in order."

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_**A/N:** Ever come across a chapter that refused to cooperate? Meet mine ;)_

* * *

The room was silent as the meaning of Ecklie's statement sank in.

A sudden intake of air signaled Catherine's understanding as confused looks passed back and forth between Warrick, Nick and Greg. Jim's head was down as he stared at the floor in dismay while Sara's eyes were locked on Grissom as he glared at the soft toy in front of him.

Then, with a sigh of resignation, he turned to face the Lab's Assistant Director. "I think we need to discuss this in your office."

It was the last thing Conrad had expected and he glanced quickly around the others in the room before returning to stare at Grissom once again. With a look that was equal parts surprise and confusion, Ecklie took a step backwards as he held his arm out towards the door.

"After you."

* * *

The door had barely closed behind them before Catherine was out of her seat.

"Okay..." Moving quickly to the end of the table, she picked up the teddy bear and stared at it. "What the hell was that about?"

"I sure know what it sounded like." Warrick stated as he shared a puzzled look with Greg.

"Grissom doesn't have a child." Nick frowned at his colleagues. "Or does he?"

"It's all a mistake." Pushing himself to his feet, Jim took the toy from Catherine and dropped it, unceremoniously, on top of the nearest bin. "Grissom doesn't have a kid, he's not at fault so how about we leave it at that for now."

"Oh, I don't think so, Jim." She turned around to face him. "If you know something, and you obviously do, I think you'd better let us in on it."

Jim shook his head. "It's not for me to tell you, Catherine; that would be up to Grissom."

"Come on, Jim, we're his team, the closest thing to family that Gil has." Catherine pleaded. "If he's in trouble, of _any_ kind, then we need to know.

Jim allowed his gaze to swing from person to person, pretending to weigh up the pros and cons, until finally settling on his real target. It was the almost imperceptible nod from Sara that gave him permission to spill the beans.

"Okay Catherine, you win." With an exaggerated sigh, he turned to address the team. "It all began this morning..."

* * *

The sound of her own footsteps sounded especially loud to Sara as she made her way along the white tiled corridors of the morgue.

She'd witnessed Grissom's exit from Ecklie's office hours earlier, followed his progress along the hallway to his own office and seen the sudden change of heart as he'd turned abruptly from the door and disappeared further into the building. The phone call she'd received from Al Robbins ten minutes ago hadn't surprised her; she'd more or less been expecting it for the past six hours.

The heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she passed by a line of offices and she inhaled deeply, savoring the smell then stopped and turned back as she heard her name called. Retracing her steps, she found the Coroner standing beside a coffee machine, a welcoming smile on his face.

"I heard the footsteps and guessed it was you." He gestured towards the two visitor's chairs. "Take a seat; coffee won't be long."

"You know, I completely forgot you even had an office." Sara looked around curiously as she made herself comfortable. The room was small and bland, typical of many government buildings but Robbins had tried his best to personalize it; framed pictures of jazz musicians lined one wall while a cluster of family photographs were displayed on a shelf behind the desk. "I just assumed I'd find you in the autopsy suite."

"I don't use this place very often." He admitted as he filled two cups. "But I thought a little privacy might be nice just now; God knows there's enough gossip flying around already."

Taking the proffered coffee, Sara sighed. "You've heard then?"

"I think everybody has." Sliding his own cup onto the desk, Al eased himself down onto his own chair. "You know how this place loves a scandal."

"So much for keeping things quiet." She shook her head in disbelief. "If there's one thing we've all learnt from this it's that glass walls aren't all that good for sound insulation."

Robbins eyebrows arched in surprise. "The rumor's true then?"

"That depends on which rumor you're talking about." Sara told him her voice hardening. "The bit about the paternity suit is true but the actual paternity part isn't."

"Whoa." Smiling at her protectiveness, Al raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I never, for a minute, thought it was. I'm on your side, okay?"

Sara was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, Doc, it's been a long night." Leaning forward, she placed her cup on the desktop. "And I've had to spend most of it listening to gossip and pretending it doesn't affect me; it's not as easy as it sounds, believe me."

"You feeling some pressure, Sara?"

"Not pressure so much as..." Sara struggled for an appropriate word. "frustration, I guess. There's a whole lab full of people back there that know Grissom and yet, by the sounds of it, half of them think he's guilty."

"And you have no doubts?"

Sara smiled knowingly at the question.

"Playing devil's advocate, Doc?" She took a deep breath as she pondered the question. "You know, there are many things in life I question but Grissom's fidelity isn't one of them. God knows, it took him long enough to make a move on me so I really can't see him jumping Ellie Brass at the first opportunity, can you?"

"Not really his style, is it?" Robbins chuckled. "Still, if you find it gets a bit much up there for you just remember you're welcome down here anytime. Gil's already using it as a bolthole so there's no reason why you shouldn't too."

"I saw him heading down here after his meeting with Ecklie." Sara admitted as she finished the last of her coffee. "I didn't expect him to be gone for the whole shift but I guess he decided that the peace and quiet of the morgue was preferable to being the center of attention back at the lab."

"We've barely seen him all night actually." Taking a sip from his cup, Robbins leaned back in his chair. "He helped David finish up with your victim's skull and then locked himself away with it in one of the back rooms; he's ventured out once or twice for coffee but that's all. The last time I saw him he was pale, sweating and squinting at the brightness of the lights in here; that's when I decided to call you."

"Considering all the stress of the past twenty-four hours a migraine not all that surprising." Sara commented.

"I offered to give him something for it but he turned me down flat; in fact, he wouldn't admit to having a headache at all." Robbins shrugged helplessly. "I decided not to push it, we all know how quickly he can shut down when he wants to but he needs to go home Sara; sooner rather than later."

"The best thing I can do is play it by ear; if it looks like an ambush he'll just dig his heels in." She commented as she pulled a small vial from her pocket. "I raided his desk before I came down here and found some Imitrex. If I can get him to take it then convincing him to go home shouldn't be a problem; this stuff makes him drowsy and he's not going to want to be at the lab in that condition."

Al checked his watch. "Well, there's only another hour or so until the end of shift anyway, that should help us out too." Gathering his crutches, Al pushed to his feet and then gestured towards the door. "Come on; I'll show you where he's hiding out."

* * *

After a quick detour to the morgue's break room, Sara rapped lightly on the door of the room Al Robbins had led her to and, without waiting for an answer, twisted the handle and stepped inside.

The room was small. A Formica-covered table and four chairs took up most of the space whilst two old filing cabinets, one on top of the other, filled an entire corner. With the overhead lights off, the only illumination came from a small window set high up in the far wall and air-conditioning trickled in via a single tiny vent.

One end of the table was covered in photographs of the victim's head before, during and after autopsy while the skull itself sat propped against a book, a half empty tube of Microsil lying abandoned beside it.

Sitting opposite, pen in hand and a notepad open in front of him, Grissom glanced up as she closed the door behind her.

"Hey." She kept her voice low, knowing that sound sensitivity was one of the many migraine symptoms he experienced.

"Hey yourself." His smile was welcoming but strained and Sara could clearly see the effect the pain was having on him; his normally tanned complexion was now tinged with grey while dark smudges underlined each eye. "You want me for something in particular?"

"No, not at all." Twisting the cap on the bottle, she placed the open drink in front of him. "I just thought you could do with a break that's all, you've been down here a long time."

She watched as he took a mouthful of the cool water.

"You know, I was in the Trace lab with Greg when you came out of Ecklie's office at the start of shift. I was kind of hoping you'd let me know how everything went but you disappeared instead."

"I'm sorry." Lifting his hand, he massaged the space above his left eyebrow. ""I just needed to get away for a while. Sitting in that office going over everything again, I just... I felt like the walls were closing in on me."

"How did Ecklie find out about Ellie in the first place?"

"He didn't actually know it was Ellie until I told him." Screwing the cap back on the bottle, Grissom placed it on the table. "Personnel got an order yesterday advising them of the deductions to my salary and they queried it with Conrad. He decided it had to be an administrative error somewhere but thought he'd have some fun with it at my expense." He sighed wearily. "He did apologize; I'll give him that but the damage had all been done by then. Now he's worried about the Press getting hold of it, ironic really since he's the one who made it public in the first place."

"So, what happens now?"

"He's going to speak to the Sheriff and make sure that he knows there's no truth to the rumors. I've also given him permission to release a memo setting the record straight." He looked up. "I guess the gossips are having a field day in the lab?"

"You could say that." Sara smiled. "Jim filled the team in by the way; you should have seen the looks on their faces when he told them who the mother was."

When Grissom didn't respond, she placed her hand over his. "None of them believe it's true, you know; they all know you too well. In fact, Nick and Warrick were drawing straws to see who gets first shot at hunting Ellie down." Leaning in, she nudged him with her shoulder. "Personally, I don't think either of them stands a chance; Catherine's sure to beat them to it."

Finally, he raised a smile. "Just what I need, a group of vigilantes going in to bat for me. What about Greg?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about him; he's not exactly the violent type." Sara hesitated briefly. "He does know about us though."

"It's getting harder and harder to keep secrets around this place, isn't it?" Placing both elbows on the table, Grissom rested his head on his hands. "What time is it?"

Looking up, Sara checked the wall clock. "Just coming up to six." She watched him for a minute. "You know, you haven't slept in over forty hours."

"It feels a lot longer." He stated tiredly.

Sara smiled at the admission knowing her task had suddenly become much easier. She looked at the contents of the table before picking up the one of the photographs. "What have you got left to do?"

"Nothing really." Grissom told her. "I've been studying those photographs and the impression I made for hours now and I still don't have a clue what the murder weapon is." He watched her face as she scoured the picture. "Take a look and tell me what you think."

Swapping the photo for the skull, Sara examined it closely.

"Depressed fracture; that's no surprise although it's not a deep as I would have expected." Her finger traced the path of the break before returning to the main indentation. "It hasn't been caused by any of the usual suspects; a baseball bat or rock would have left a much bigger wound." She looked across at him. "What does this measure? Two by three inches?"

"Thereabouts." Grissom agreed as he handed her the impression he'd made of the wound. She stared at the grey rubber mould first before gently feeling the uneven surface. "There's no real definition, is there? That could be almost anything."

"That's the same conclusion I came up with." Closing his eyes, Grissom fell silent.

She waited a moment before speaking. "Migraine?"

"Just a headache, that's all."

"Uh-huh." Reaching out, Sara felt his forehead. "Your skin is clammy, you're white as a sheet and you look like death warmed up; I'd say it's more than a headache, wouldn't you?"

Grissom sighed deeply. "Al called you down here, didn't he?"

"He was worried about you." Shifting her hand from his face to his back, Sara gave it a gentle rub. "So am I for that matter."

"There's no need, really." Opening his eyes, he tried a smile but couldn't quite pull it off. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Reaching into her pocket, Sara pulled out the vial. "Do me a favor and take one of these."

"Sara-"

"Do as you're told, doctor's orders." The voice coming from the doorway surprised them both, neither having heard the door opening behind them. "And once you've done that I want you to head off home and try to sleep it off."

"Shift hasn't finished yet." Grissom protested. "I really should head back and check-"

"Everyone's done perfectly well without you for most of the night, Gil." Al Robbins interjected. "None of them need you standing over them to do their work anyway so stop being stubborn, take your medication and let Sara drive you home."

Grissom glared at the coroner before turning back to the table and Sara's pleading stare.

"You just told me you had nothing left to do here." She held a tablet in one hand and the water bottle in the other. "But even if you did, you're not going to be one hundred percent effective if you're battling a migraine. So, how about we call it quits for the night and go home?" She waited a beat before adding one more word. "Please?"

Gil looked from one to the other and knew he didn't have the strength to argue further. With a defeated sigh, he took the pill from her hand.

* * *

The first thing Jim Brass had done on his return to PD was close his office blinds and ensure the door was firmly shut. He'd known immediately that the news had flooded the building, the surreptitious glances and whispered conversations had proven that and now, with a shift change in progress, there were twice as many people he wanted avoid – and one in particular that he hoped to catch.

He'd almost given up waiting when he heard a quick rap on the door followed by the appearance of a blond head and he mustered a smile as Sofia Curtis entered and took a seat.

"You wanted to see me, Jim?"

Brass nodded and got straight to the point. "You've heard about this thing with Ellie, I take it?"

"Bit hard to avoid, it's about the only thing people are talking about." Sofia admitted. "How's Grissom taking it?"

"He was angry at first; I didn't really help matter by treating it as a joke but that was before I found out who it was that was behind it all." He gave a quick shrug. "Now he's calmed down, hired an attorney and, by the sounds of it, everything will be back to normal in a week or so. No harm done."

"And you?" She asked. "It must have come as shock."

"Ellie stopped shocking me years ago." Jim confessed. "Although finding out I had a grandchild _was_ a bit of a surprise." He looked up taking in the curious expression on Sofia's face. "You're wondering why I'm telling you all of this."

She smiled. "You could say that, yes."

"Grissom wants everything left up to the court; I can't say I blame him, a quick buccal swap will prove his case and that's the end of it as far as he's concerned but that doesn't apply to me, does it?"

"No." Sofia knew where he was heading. "I guess it doesn't."

"Ellie's tied Gil's hands as far as information's concerned and she's in the process of doing the same to me but that doesn't apply to anyone else. I've promised him that I won't do anything to jeopardize his case but there's nothing to stop you looking into things for me." Leaning forward in his chair, Brass took a deep breath before continuing. "That's what I want you to do, Sofia; I want you to find Ellie and that baby for me."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 6**

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **Well, in spite of having to contend with a series of violent thunderstorms and almost constant electricity problems as well as the threats of public humiliation promised by a certain person who shall remain nameless _(starts with S and she tends to throw the occasional French word around)_, I finally managed to get chapter 6 up.

I apologize profusely for the delay; I really am trying to do something about this whacked out posting schedule of mine.

* * *

Seated in the Denali's passenger seat, Catherine watched as Grissom read the name on his cell phone's screen before rejecting the call and tossing the instrument back onto the vehicle's center console.

"Jim again?"

"Yeah." Gil glanced quickly at his watch before returning his attention to the traffic lights they were stopped at. "I told him yesterday that there probably wouldn't be any news from my attorney before lunchtime but that's the sixth call this morning."

"He's just anxious, Gil; he wants this all sorted out just as much as you do."

"I know he does." Grissom conceded. "But hounding me with phone calls is not going to help matters."

The light turned green and the SUV moved forward only to be stopped again at the next intersection. Although the Monday morning rush-hour was over, traffic on Decatur Boulevard was heavy and Grissom mentally ran through all the alternate routes to their destination before deciding to turn left on Sahara and then head for Maryland Parkway.

Catherine watched him from the corner of her eye; his gaze fixed on the lights up ahead and fingers drumming impatiently on the top of the steering wheel. Hoping to distract Grissom from both the traffic situation and Jim's constant interruptions, she quickly searched for a topic she could use to fill the now uncomfortable silence.

"So, was your meeting this morning fun?"

"I don't think anyone would ever describe a breakfast meeting with the sheriff and Conrad Ecklie as fun especially under the circumstances." He commented dryly. "I filled him in on the case and then he spent the next hour and a half grilling me about my so-called relationship with Ellie Brass."

"Okay, definitely not fun then." Catherine said sympathetically. "But he is on your side in all of this, right?"

"Well, he says he is but I still caught him looking at me strangely a couple of times." With the traffic finally starting to move again, Grissom eased the Denali into the correct lane to make the left turn into Sahara Avenue. "But that's nothing compared to some of the looks I've been getting at the lab; I don't think Conrad's memo was quite as effective as he'd hoped."

"Don't tell me: David Hodges." Catherine mouth twitched up into a wry smile. "I don't know what you've done to piss him off, Gil but he is not a happy camper as far as you're concerned at the moment."

"It's not just me." Grissom assured her. "I've had a couple of complaints about his behavior over the past few weeks. The man's doing his job, I can't fault him on that, but he seems determined to alienate everybody in the process." He sighed deeply. "I can't let it go on much longer either; now, more than ever; I need everyone working as a team."

"So, let Ecklie handle him." Catherine suggested. "He loves all that HR stuff; it's what he lives for."

"As temping as that sounds I think I'd better deal with it myself; whether I like it or not, David Hodges is my responsibility and, as such, it's down to me to sort him out." As the traffic began to thin out, Grissom started to relax and he shot her a quick smile. "Not that I won't use Ecklie as a threat if I have to but, hopefully, it won't come to that."

"You did tell Sheriff Burdick about what we're about to do, didn't you?"

"I mentioned it." Flicking the indicator on, he quickly turned right onto Maryland Parkway. "And, not surprisingly, he wasn't overly impressed with the idea. He wants to try and keep things under wraps for as long as possible; you know what the media are like when they hear the words 'serial killer'.

"And yet we're doing it anyway." Catherine commented, somewhat surprised by her friend's cavalier flouting of the sheriff's wishes. "Won't Burdick be annoyed when he finds out what we're about to do?"

"Probably but you were right the other day, Catherine; we have to do something. Elaine Grogan's been working with prostitutes for over thirty years now; if anyone can get a warning out to those women without causing a panic _or_ leaking it to the press, then she can. For the moment, we're the only ones working this case and while we are, nobody's going to tell us to just sit by and wait for the next body to turn up."

"Hang on." Catherine turned in her seat. "What do you mean by 'the only ones'? What else did he have to say?"

"It's not what he said, more what he implied." He took a deep breath. "I think we'll only get one more shot at cracking this case ourselves; if we don't come up with a viable lead soon, I'm pretty sure Burdick will insist on bringing the FBI onboard."

"Oh, that'll be fun." Catherine commented sarcastically. "Things always go so much smoother when they're around."

"Actually..." Grissom winced slightly at his own admission. "I'm beginning to think it may not be a bad idea."

"You're joking, right?" One look told Catherine he wasn't. "You can't be serious! Don't you remember the mess they made of the Strip Strangler case? First they put Sara at risk in a half-assed sting operation that only managed to net a bag-snatcher and then they completely ignore the evidence in front of them and announce to the world that a guy who decided to take the opportunity to off his own wife was actually responsible for the whole thing." She shook her head in amazement. "They ran roughshod over you and the Lab and then, just to top things off, they turned up five minutes after _we_ got the bastard for them. We don't need them, Gil; they're not worth the trouble."

"Ordinarily I'd agree with you but we've just spent an entire weekend looking for evidence that clearly doesn't exist; we found no prints, no trace and no DNA." Taking his eyes from the road for a moment, he looked over at her. "I'm hoping that if we agree to their involvement rather than treating it as an 'us versus them' situation, we'll be able to keep some control over the investigation. If Burdick wants to bring them in then I'm not going to resist it, Catherine and I don't want any of you to either."

"Well, you can count on the team, you know that, we'll just follow your lead but Jim won't be pleased." She commented. "In fact, none of the locals will; you know how they feel about the Feds."

"At this point, I don't really care what anyone at PD thinks." Lifting his left hand from the steering wheel, Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're probably looking at a minimum of eleven murders here, Catherine; we've already had three and if working with the FBI means we have a better chance of cutting that number down then I'm all for it."

Catherine frowned as she watched him. "You don't still have that migraine, do you?"

"Not really." Dropping his hand back down, he glanced self-consciously at her. "I always have a slight headache for a couple of days afterwards; it's annoying but it'll wear off eventually."

"That was the first one in a while, huh?"

"I haven't had one since..." He thought for a moment. "Before I took that sabbatical, I guess."

"Stress induced." Catherine opined. "Not surprising really considering what's going on at the moment." Unsure how he'd take her next statement, she took a deep breath before continuing. "You're going to have take care of yourself, Gil, we really can't afford to have you going down on us again or, God forbid, disappearing to the other side of the country like last time."

His smile surprised her.

"That's not going to happen, Catherine; don't worry, I'm not going anywhere" Seeing the UNLV entrance up ahead, Grissom turned in and followed along University Road to the complex's central car park. "I talked everything over with..." He caught himself just in time. "... a friend and I've come to a decision: I've got enough to deal with at the moment and the last thing I need is Ellie Brass and her ridiculous claims cluttering things up so, the minute the court orders DNA testing, I'll give them a sample and then I'm washing my hands of the whole thing."

"But that's all you'll have to do anyway." She pointed out. "The test will show you're not that child's father and Ellie will have to go hound the _real_ father for money."

"You know, I don't think money is the motivation; Ellie isn't stupid, she knows what the tests will prove and I'm willing to bet she doesn't even turn up for them. I think this whole thing is about getting back at _her_ father; embarrassing him and waving a grandchild under his nose that she'll make sure he never sees. I'm not the target here; I'm just the means to an end."

"So what happens if she doesn't take the test?"

"According to my lawyer, the court will rule in absentia and I'll be cleared." Grissom swung the big SUV into the first empty parking space he came to. "And, actually, that suits me just fine; I don't care how I get rid of this thing, I just want it over and done with. The one thing I _do_ want though is my name removed from that birth certificate and we'll file a petition for that just as soon as that final ruling comes through.

"What about Jim in all of this though?" Catherine asked. "Does he know about your decision?"

"I haven't told him yet but, hopefully, he'll understand." Catching sight of his passenger's doubtful expression, Grissom's voice took on a harder, more determined edge. "I wouldn't do it if it wasn't necessary, Catherine; call it self-preservation if you like but I can't work this case and play Ellie's games at the same time; I escaped burn-out once and I will not be pushed down that road again."

"No, of course not." Realizing that her concern for both men had been misinterpreted, Catherine hurried to set things straight. "I'm not taking sides, honestly, I can see why you're taking the stance that you are but working so closely with Jim over the weekend, I can tell you now that his focus is starting to shift. He still wants this mess sorted out but now it's becoming less about you and Ellie and more about the baby. I'm just not sure how he'll take the news."

"Whether Brass takes it well or not isn't all that important to me just now." Shrugging out of his seatbelt, Grissom grabbed his phone and shoved it in his jacket pocket. "We have a killer to catch, Catherine and that's got to take priority." Opening the door of the Denali, he hopped out before turning back to face her. "Now, come on; I don't want to be late."

* * *

Sliding his coffee cup onto the dining room table, Jim Brass took a seat and automatically reached for his cell phone. Staring at the screen, he briefly debated trying Grissom's number again before deciding against it; he'd left countless voicemail messages already, there was no point in leaving another. He was about to put the handset down again when it sprang to life, Sofia's name flashing brightly on the tiny screen. Flipping the phone open, he quickly answered the call.

"Hey Sofia." The upbeat greeting he'd been trying for sounded flat and weary and Jim dragged his coffee closer, hoping it would help stave off the exhaustion he'd been fighting all night. "How are things going?"

"They're not." The detective sounded tired herself; spending two or three hours of her own time trawling the city's street after shift was beginning to take a toll. "I'm sorry, Jim, nobody around here seems to have heard of either Ellie Brass _or_ Jersey. I've tried everywhere I can think of and I'm just not having any luck."

"Actually, that's good." He took a swig from the cup before continuing. "I finally got hold of Annie Kramer in L.A. and, according to her, Ellie's off the game. Annie last saw her about ten months ago; she was definitely pregnant and waitressing in a pizza joint just off Ventura Boulevard."

"So, I've been searching in the wrong place?"

"God, I hope so." Brass exclaimed. "It's been bad enough knowing how Ellie chose to live but the thought that a child – my grandson – could be brought up in..." Jim cut the sentence short, not wanting to dwell on the images that ran through his mind. He took a deep, cleansing breath. "Anyway, Annie suggested checking out similar places here; apparently Ellie said she was enjoying the job and wouldn't have minded staying on but the baby's father wanted her closer to him; it seems he's a friend of mine from Vegas."

"She's had this planned for that long?" Sofia asked incredulously. "She'd have only been four, maybe five, months pregnant at that time."

"You know, Ellie may claim to live for the day but pretty much everything she has ever done to cause trouble has been very carefully plotted out. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that she knew she was pregnant when she was out here and earmarked Gil as a revenue source the minute she met him; my daughter leaves nothing to chance."

"Have you heard from him yet?" Sofia asked, not wanting to intrude but curious as to how things were going. "It is this morning that the court's hearing the appeal, isn't it?"

"I haven't heard a thing." Draining his cup, Jim placed it back on the table. "I've left voicemail messages for him but he hasn't called me back yet. Gil was meeting with the sheriff this morning though; I guess it's going overtime."

"Better him than me." Sofia commented as she tried to stifle a yawn. "Look Jim, the reason I called was to tell you that I'm due in court myself tomorrow morning; I have no problem switching the search to restaurants and coffee shops and the like but it's going to have to wait a day or two before I can get around to it again."

"Actually, I don't think it will." Jim smiled as a new plan suddenly took shape. "There's nothing strange about someone stopping off for coffee on the way to or from work so, as of now, I'll be able to give you a hand; with two of us looking we should stand more of a chance of finding Ellie."

"Are you sure?" Sofia sounded doubtful. "You've got that RO to worry about remember? Not to mention what Grissom will say if he finds out."

"Gil's not going to find out so don't worry about it." Brass assured her. "And I can hardly be accused of breaching a restraining order if I happen to wander into some establishment and find my daughter working there, can I? As far as I know, she's still plying her trade on the streets."

"It's your decision, I guess." Resigned to the fact that she'd never talk him round, Sofia changed the subject. "Look, you sound tired, Jim, how about calling it a day and getting some rest? I know you haven't had much time to relax over the weekend; maybe you should try and get some sleep."

"That's exactly what I plan on doing." Jim told her as he pushed his chair back from the table; grabbing his empty cup, he headed back into the kitchen. "I'm just going to wait for Gil to call and then I'll hit the hay. A couple of hours sleep and I'll be raring to go again."

"Well, just make sure you do that, okay? Running yourself into the ground isn't going to accomplish anything."

"Just as soon as I get that call." Balancing the phone against his shoulder, Jim grabbed the coffee pot and refilled it with fresh water. "Thanks Sofia; I appreciate you helping me out on this."

Snapping the handset closed, Jim leaned wearily against the counter and prepared to wait; for both a fresh caffeine hit and Grissom's promised phone call.

* * *

Pulling open the heavy auditorium door, Grissom stood back allowing Catherine to enter ahead of him before stepping inside and letting the door swing closed behind him.

With the morning's lecture finished, the hall was a hive of activity; the majority of the students busy collecting their belongings while a small group gathered around the raised lectern at the front, either handing in assigned work or intent on having a few words with their instructor.

A large LCD screen occupied most of the front wall and Catherine took note of the title of the day's lecture before turning to her colleague with a grin. "'The Ethics and Politics of Social Work.'? After all the dealings I've had with them I wouldn't have thought social workers even _had_ ethics."

"Oh, they're not all bad." The group around the lectern began to break up and Grissom smiled as he caught sight of the woman they'd come to meet. "Come on, I'll show you."

Threading their way through the departing students, they made their way to the front and Catherine stood awkwardly beside the front row of seats while Grissom continued on, moving closer to the stage.

With her back to the auditorium, Elaine Grogan was in the process of shutting down her PowerPoint presentation when she sensed movement behind her; assuming it was yet another student, she turned with a smile only to find herself faced with one of the last people she expected to see.

"Good God!" Stunned, she took a step backwards before collecting herself and rounding the table that held her computer. "Look what the cat's dragged in."

"Hello Elaine." Grissom's mouth twitched up into a grin, amused at the surprise on his old friend's face. "How are you?"

"I'm fine thank you, Gil." Her composure restored, Elaine made her way to the front of the stage. "Though I'm sure my heart could probably do without the shock of having you turn up after..." Both eyes rolled up as she pretended to think. "How long is it now?"

Grissom shrugged; knowing it had been a while but unable to come up with an exact timeframe. "Two years, two and a half?"

"Try four, Gilbert." Stepping quickly down off the stage, Elaine instantly wrapped him in a welcoming hug. "Which is entirely too long for someone who promised me he'd keep in touch."

Catherine looked on in amazement and quietly felt behind her for a seat. Making herself comfortable she took the opportunity to get a good look at the woman in front of her.

Standing no more than five foot four, Elaine Grogan barely came up to Grissom's shoulder. A slim build was shown off tastefully by the white knit top and knee-length navy blue skirt she wore, a matching lightweight jacket was draped casually over a nearby chair. Her dyed blonde hair was short, swept back at the sides with just a slight fringe softening the front. Curious about her age, Catherine leaned forward trying to get a closer look at her face before finally guessing at a well-kept mid to late fifties.

She sat back again as the pair moved; Grissom easing back out of the hug although, Catherine noted, Elaine managed to keep hold of one arm.

"I'm sorry, Elaine, I kept meaning to get in touch, I just-"

"It's alright, you don't have to explain." With an understanding smile, she quickly absolved him. "I was married to a cop remember; I know what it can be like." Noticing her other visitor for the first time, Elaine offered Catherine a friendly smile as she quickly batted at Grissom's arm. "I see you've forgotten your manners."

He frowned in confusion only catching on as Catherine stood up and extended her hand in greeting. Embarrassed by his lapse, Grissom hurried to put things right.

"Elaine Grogan meet Catherine Willows." He stood back as Elaine accepted the proffered hand. "Cath and I work together at the Crime Lab."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Willows." The handshake was warm and genuine and Catherine smiled as she detected a slight inflection in the other woman's speech.

"It's Catherine, please." Cocking her head slightly to one side, she took a guess at the accent. "I'm going to assume you two met in Minnesota."

"That obvious, huh?" Elaine chuckled. "You know, every time I think I've finally lost the accent someone picks up on it; I guess it's one of those one's you just can't get rid of." She looked from Catherine to Grissom and back again. "So tell me Catherine, what brings him round here after all this time?"

After an amused glance at Grissom, Catherine became serious. "It's business I'm afraid; we're hoping you might be able to help us out."

"Vanessa Renner?" Elaine sighed sadly at Catherine's nod of confirmation. "I was sorry to hear about what happened to her. She had kids, didn't she? Two if I remember correctly."

"Yes, two young boys." Catherine told her. "They're with Family Services at the moment; apparently, there's family back in Philadelphia they're hoping to trace."

"How well did you know her, Elaine?" Grissom joined the conversation for the first time.

"I barely knew her at all." She gave a quick shrug. "She turned up at the office one day, said one of the other girls had recommended us, she was about to be evicted and was looking for help; because she had the kids we were able to get her into emergency housing." Elaine thought for a moment. "I don't remember seeing her since then but somebody else may have dealt with her; I can ask around if you like."

"I'm sorry." Catherine raised her hand. "I'm missing something here; what office are we talking about? I assumed you worked here at the university."

"I only teach a couple of classes a week here, this one and another on client evaluation practices; both boring subjects but necessary if you want to become a social worker." Gesturing to the empty row of seats, Elaine urged both her guests to sit while she grabbed another chair and took a seat in front of them. "The Social Work Department here runs what we call a 'field office' out of some rooms above the Free Clinic on Harmon Avenue; we're open to anyone that needs us but the majority of our clientele are prostitutes. I guess over the past four and a half years I've probably dealt, in one way or another, with almost every girl that's worked the streets of Vegas."

"How about Janet Keyes or Michelle Howard?" Grissom asked. "Does either of those names ring a bell?"

"Janet I know." She corrected herself. "Or knew anyway; she died a couple of months ago, didn't she?" At Grissom's nod, she continued. "She had a substance abuse problem, crack if I remember correctly; she said she wanted to kick the habit but every time we got her accepted into a program she'd flunk out. Finally we had to tell her we couldn't do anything more for her until she was serious about helping herself; we just don't have enough resources to waste them like that."

"And Howard?"

"We never had any dealings with her but I do recognize the name from the newspapers; she was murdered two or three weeks ago." She turned to look at Grissom. "You think they're connected."

"Yes." He confirmed. "As you know, I can't go into specifics but we are convinced that all three women were murdered by the same person."

"Oh, God; as if the girls don't have enough dangers to face out there." Elaine sighed heavily. "Please tell me you have an idea who it is you're looking for."

"At the moment, we have nothing to go on." Grissom told her. "That's the reason we're here; we need you to help us out."

She looked up quickly. "I'll quite happy to help out in whatever way I can, Gil, you know that, just as long as it doesn't involve any breaches of confidentiality; if it's our client's files you're after, you've come to the wrong place."

"We don't want anything like that, Elaine." He hurried to assure her. "In fact, 'officially' we're not even here."

Catherine jumped in before Elaine could speak.

"The sheriff's hoping to keep everything under the radar for now; the media don't know that the three crimes are linked and he wants to keep it that way for as long as possible." Catherine took a deep breath before continuing. "We don't know _where_ the next murder will take place but we do know _when_ and that's the information we need to get out."

"And that's what you want me to do?" Elaine looked dubious.

"They're not interested in listening to us, we know that but I'm hoping that they will listen to you." Grissom took over once again. "There's an enormous potential victim pool out there but we're hoping that you'll be able to spread the word for us; they need to know that they're at risk." Elaine's eyebrows rose and he quickly corrected himself. "At more risk than usual."

"Well, we can certainly do that through the Center and there's quite an active grapevine on the street so I imagine it won't take too long to spread the word but..." Her gaze shifted between the two CSIs. "How do you know when the next murder will occur?"

"We can't tell you that Elaine, I'm sorry." Looking at his watch, Grissom got to his feet. "We're going to have to go but how about if Catherine drops by the office sometime during the next day or two? She can fill you in on exactly what it is we need to get out and, also, what information we're hoping the women will be able to give us; suspicious clients, strangers hanging about; at the moment we'll take whatever we can get."

"That sounds fine." As the two women stood, Elaine turned towards Catherine. "You know where to find us? I can give you directions if you like."

"There's no need." Catherine assured her. "I know where the Free Clinic is; I won't have any problem."

After offering her a final friendly smile, Elaine turned towards Grissom.

"Now" Her smile slipped as her eyes locked with his. "Since I've got you here, Gilbert, you can give me your new address. I tried to call you a couple of months ago only to find out that you'd moved."

"You sold the townhouse!" Catherine was stunned. "God Grissom, when the hell did this happen?"

"A while back." He squirmed slightly as both women glared. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Catherine sighed in exasperation. "I don't believe this! Were you planning on telling us you'd moved?"

"I would have told you all... eventually." He pulled a business card from his jacket and quickly scribbled his new address and home phone number on the back before handing it to Elaine. "What was it you trying to call me about?"

"It wasn't all that important." She told him with a satisfied grin. "If it had been I'd have called you at the lab but I'd just moved house myself and thought you'd like to know; apparently that's what friends are supposed to do." When he refused to bite at the dig, Elaine continued. "When I was cleaning out the garage, I came across a couple of boxes John had been keeping for you; books mostly but I think there's some clothes and other belongings in there too. There's also something of his that I thought he'd have wanted you to have."

"Okay…" Grissom gave her a curious look. "You have my new number now so give me a call and we'll set something up." Bending slightly, he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thanks Elaine, you've been a big help."

With a glance towards his obviously sulking colleague, Grissom turned towards the door. "Come on, Cath; I think it's time we called it a day."

* * *

Nothing was said on the walk back to the Denali and Grissom savored the silence, knowing from experience that it wouldn't last long. He'd just settled himself in the driver's seat and was reaching for his seatbelt when Catherine finally spoke.

"I don't believe you moved and never told anyone." Her voice was cold and disapproving; a tone that he'd come to know well. "Damn it Grissom, we've been friends for years; how could you not let me know?"

With a weary sigh he extracted another business card and wrote out the same information he'd just given Elaine then held it out for her to take. "Happy now?"

Pleased that her ploy had worked, she graced him with a smile before reading the address on the card. "I know this building." She looked up quickly. "Even with the funds from the townhouse sale there's no way you could afford an apartment there yourself; Nick was right, wasn't he? You do have a girlfriend, don't you?"

Grissom decided to ignore the question as he started the SUV and reversed out of the parking space. "I expect you to call before dropping round, Catherine." He glanced her way as he shifted the transmission into drive. "If you turn up unexpectedly someday I will not be letting you through the door."

"What you really mean is you want time to hide the evidence." She tried to keep the amusement out her voice. "Okay Gil, I can live with that… for now."

"Catherine-" He was interrupted by the ringing of his phone and he fumbled awkwardly in his pocket before finally pulling it free. He glanced at the screen, expecting to see Jim's name instead it was the call he'd been waiting for.

"Rachel?"

With the phone gripped tightly in left hand, Grissom pulled the Denali over to the curb and threw it into park as he listened to his caller, Catherine watching him carefully from the passenger seat.

Staring straight ahead through the windscreen, Grissom sat motionless; the only movement that Catherine could see was the tight clenching of his jaw muscles. It wasn't until he let out an audible sigh of relief that she knew he'd received the news he'd been hoping for. Seeing him relax back again the seat, she realized for the first time that she'd been holding her breath as well and she shook her head in amusement as she inhaled the cooling air being pumped in through the vehicle's air-conditioning vents.

Bringing his hand up, Grissom wiped it over his face as his attorney continued to talk. He only vaguely took in her instructions as the tension he'd been feeling for the past three and a half days suddenly eased. Dropping his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and smiled as Rachel quickly wrapped up her side of the conversation.

With his eyes still closed he thanked her profusely before snapping the phone closed and allowing it to drop into his lap. Catherine granted him a minute to himself before her patience ran out.

"Good news?"

"The Court's accepted the appeal and they've put a hold on the support payments." Opening his eyes, he looked across with a grin. "Whoever signed my name on those papers was good, the handwriting analyst could only pick up three distinct differences between those samples and my exemplar but that and Jim's written statement was enough to convince the judge to order genetic testing. All I have to do now is turn up next Friday for the swab and that's it done."

"That's great, Gil." Reaching across, she placed her hand on his arm. "I'm so happy for you."

"You know, even though Rachel was certain we'd win I was still terrified that I was going to end up spending the next eighteen years paying for a kid that wasn't mine." He exhaled heavily. "God, I can't believe how relieved I feel."

Catherine could help but laugh. "We're finished for the day now, right? How about we stop off somewhere and I'll buy you a drink; I think after everything you've been through lately, a celebration is definitely in order."

Grissom considered it briefly before deciding to decline; there was only one place he wanted to go right now and that was home to give Sara the good news.

"How about a rain check?" He suggested. "After that migraine the other day I might be wise to stay away from alcohol for a while anyway." Shifting the Denali back into gear, he pulled out into the street. "Instead of driving all the way back to the Lab, how about I drop you home instead? I don't know about you but I could do with sleep."

"Um, isn't there something you're supposed to do first?" He looked over, confused and Catherine rolled her eyes in amusement. "You're meant to call Jim, remember? You promised him you'd let him know the minute you got any news."

"Damn." Merging smoothly with the fast flowing Parkway traffic, Grissom glanced briefly at the Denali's clock before giving a one shouldered shrug. "He hasn't called in over an hour now and he was pretty wiped the last time I saw him." He hesitated, weighing up the options before coming to a decision. "I'll leave it for now, he's probably fallen asleep."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Gil." Catherine commented. "He's been just as uptight about this thing as you have; he deserves to be told now."

"It'll be fine." Grissom assured her confidently. "Believe me; if he has fallen asleep then he's not going to appreciate being disturbed, especially for something that he was certain was a foregone conclusion." Seeing the off-ramp for Catherine's exit up ahead, he hit the indicator and got ready to turn off. "I'll give him a call later this afternoon; after all, what harm can a couple more hours do?"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 7**

"Sorry honey, the face isn't ringing any bells." With an apologetic smile, the waitress slid the photograph back across the counter. "What did you say her name was again?"

"Ellie. Ellie Brass." Picking the picture up, Jim slipped it back into his wallet. "I know it's a long shot but she would have been looking for work around about nine or ten months ago; she'd have been pregnant at the time."

The woman shook her head. "Well, she wouldn't have found a job here if she was; there's no way Vic would hire a pregnant waitress."

"How about six months ago then, after the baby was born?" He asked, desperation tingeing his voice. "Maybe she came in then?"

"Look, I'd like to help you, I really would but..." She gestured around the busy diner. "we have people in and out of here twenty-four hours a day; unless we're talking about one of our regulars I'd probably have trouble telling you who came in last week never mind six months ago." Turning slightly, she grabbed the glass coffee pot from it's warmer and waved it towards Jim's cup. "Refill? It's on the house."

"Sure." Brass slid his cup forward slightly and watched as she topped it up before heading off to check on her other customers. Disappointment flooded through him as he pulled out his notebook and crossed yet another name off his list.

A large mirror graced the wall behind the counter and, looking up, Jim stared at his reflection taking in the bags under his eyes and the sallowness that was beginning to replace his normally healthy complexion. Of the fifty-seven businesses that comprised his half of the list, he'd visited forty-three of them in five days and the strain was definitely beginning to tell. Most he'd accomplished either before or after shift but some, like the one he was currently sitting in, he'd squeezed in between official calls. Running his hand over his closely-cropped scalp, he idly wondered whom he should blame more for his current state: his daughter or his so-call best friend.

As he watched himself in the mirror, Jim's mind automatically slipped back to the events of Monday; waiting beside the phone for Grissom's promised call, anxiety growing with each hour that passed until, finally, dialing Sara's number in the hope that she'd at least know what the hold up was. He couldn't help the disbelieving shake of his head as he remembered her sleep-addled voice telling him that, not only had Grissom's appeal been successful but that the man himself had been home for hours and was currently sound asleep in bed beside her.

Unnerved by the wave of anger and frustration that surged through him at the news, he'd hung up abruptly, an action he'd later apologized for but in the days since then, despite Grissom's own apologetic explanations, Jim had found himself unable to forgive the treatment he'd received and he certainly wasn't about to forget it. He'd spent the rest of the week doing his what he could to avoid the criminalist but he knew that tonight would bring an end to that state of affairs and he wasn't particularly looking forward to their inevitable meeting.

He was bought back to the present by the ringing of his cell phone and he fumbled it from his jacket glancing quickly at the screen before answering.

"Brass."

"It's Vega." The other detective's voice sounded somewhat distant and Jim guessed he had his phone on loudspeaker. "That call you've been expecting has just come in; CSIs are already rolling and I'm heading out right now."

Surprised, Jim checked his watch noting that it was only a few minutes after 2am.

"It's still early." He commented. "Grissom said nothing would happen until nearer the end of shift."

"Guess Grissom got it wrong then." An excited chatter filled the air and Jim recognized the sounds of the police radio in the background. "She's in the car park of the Meadows Mall on Valley View Boulevard, the nearest cross street is Alta Drive; you know where that is?"

"Yeah, I know it." Pulling his wallet back out, Jim extracted a ten and placed it on the counter, using his still full coffee cup to keep it in place then, with a smile of thanks to the waitress, he headed for the door. "Look Sam, I'm at least forty-five minutes away; can you handle things until I get there?"

"Yeah, there shouldn't be any problems." Vega told him. "From what I understand, Grissom's got a game plan anyway; I'll just leave it all up to him."

"Yeah, that should work just fine." Pulling open his car door, Jim slid in behind the wheel. "If there's one thing Grissom's good at its making decisions for other people."

* * *

The south-east corner of The Meadows Mall car park was bathed in bright light; six portable arc lamps illuminating what was usually a very dark, secluded section of the large lot. Crime scene tape had been strung up; demarcating an area approximately ten yards square while a line of four marked patrol cars was currently being used as a screen to block the view from Meadows Lane and the small group of voyeurs who had gathered there for the show.

Crouching beside their latest victim, Grissom carefully adjusted the focus on his camera before taking the first in a series of close-ups of the dual incisions that ran across her throat. Catching a glint of white through the sea of blood that covered her upper body, he zoomed in even closer determined to get a shot of it before realizing that what he was seeing was actually cartilage.

"Well whoever did this was very determined." He lowered the camera and addressed his colleague. "If either the BFT or the abdominal wound didn't kill her then slicing through her trachea would have certainly seen her off."

"My money's on the headshot." Sara stated as she rubbed a swab through the blood pooled beside the victim's right hip. "Still sure this is number four?"

"I don't think there's much doubt, do you?" Firing off the last of his shots he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he flexed his knees. "She looks to me like a carbon-copy of the fourth Whitechapel victim; the only real difference that I can see is that our one wasn't found in the gutter."

"Well, I guess a car park's a step up from the gutter, huh?"

"I don't think I'd want to be found dead in either, actually." Grissom surveyed the line of small shrubs that separated the lot from the street beyond. "Looks like he's hit her almost as soon as they were out of view of the street; we're probably lucky it was reported as quickly as it was."

Sara nodded her agreement. "According to Vega, the mall's security guard patrolled this area less than an hour before the body was found so at least we can be fairly accurate on TOD for this one."

Grissom nodded as he checked the rest of the near-deserted car park. "Where the hell is David? Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"The message I got said he was on his way." She pulled out her cell phone. "Want me to check on him?"

"We'll give him another five minutes." Popping open the rear of the camera, Grissom removed the roll of 35mm film and replaced it with a fresh one. "I can't really complain about him being late when our lead detective hasn't even turned up yet."

"You knew he was going to be late." Sara reminded him. "Vega told you that as soon as he arrived."

"I'm surprised he's bothering to turn up at all." A few yards away Greg came into view, his head down as he conducted a grid-search of the area immediately outside of the designated crime scene and as Grissom watched, the younger man stooped and placed a numbered marker on the ground beside his feet before stepping backwards and photographing whatever it was that he'd found. "I've spent more time with Vega and Vartann over the last few days than I have in the past month; Jim's made himself pretty scarce."

"You know why that is." Sara pointed out, disapproval clear in her tone. "Personally, I'm glad he's stayed away; hopefully, it's given him a chance to calm down."

Headlights flooded the ground around them and, turning, both CSIs watched as Jim's department issue Taurus approached from the northern entrance to the large lot.

"Speak of the devil." Turning his back on the approaching car, Grissom began preparing his camera for the last of the crime scene photos but was forced to turn back at Sara's quiet admonishment.

"Hey, he's still your friend, remember." Stepping back towards the victim herself, she pulled out a fresh swab. "So play nicely, okay?"

"Yes, dear." Rolling his eyes, Grissom lifted the camera and lined up his first shot. "Although, I'm not entirely sure it's me you should be saying that to."

* * *

Easing his foot of the gas as he neared the taped area, Brass pulled the Taurus to a stop beside Grissom's Denali, the first in a line of three that he recognized from the Crime Lab.

He scanned the rest of the area, noting the three CSIs ahead of him as well as Sam Vega and a uniformed security guard further away out of the glare of the lights. Climbing from the car, Jim ducked beneath the fluttering yellow tape and quickly made his way over for his first glimpse of victim number four.

She'd been left in much the same position as the last one: flat on her back, arms out to the sides and legs demurely together. Her clothing had been cut from her body and was now strewn around the area, some of it far enough away to have escaped the blood pool but most of it now saturated. Her head was tilted back, two deep gashes running across the exposed throat whilst, further down the body, a jagged wound ran from just below the breasts to the pubic line, it's edges gaping open in parts.

A camera flash lit up the body, the concentrated light making the blood stand out even more starkly against the pallid skin and Jim recoiled slightly as an involuntary exclamation escaped from his lips.

"Jesus!"

Surprised by the homicide detective's reaction, Grissom glanced up from the Nikon's viewfinder. "Not pretty, is it?"

"No." Jim paused a second to regroup. "Not pretty at all." He looked around again as he realized someone was missing. "Coroner hasn't arrived?"

"Not yet." Returning his attention to his task, Grissom refocused for the next photo. "Looks like you're not the only one running late tonight."

"Sorry about that, Gil." Brass didn't bother trying to disguise the sarcasm. "I know how annoying it can be when people let you down."

Hearing the remark and the tone with which it was delivered; Sara glanced up, her eyes shifting from one man to the other. The fact that Grissom kept his head down and had chosen to ignore the remark didn't particularly surprise her but the look of disdain on Jim's face did. Slipping the last of her swabs into its protective box, she hurriedly got to her feet.

"Hey, Jim." She smiled warmly as she covered the short distance between them. "It's good to see you; I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it at all."

"Sorry about that." He returned the smile as he reached into his jacket and extracted his notebook and pen. "I was on the other side of town when the call came in." Glancing back across at Grissom, he couldn't resist another dig. "Just as well Sam called and let me know what was going on, if it was left up to some people I probably wouldn't have found out about it until sometime next Tuesday."

Sensing movement, Sara watched as Grissom shifted further down the body. His expression was neutral but she could see by the set of his shoulders just how much he was fighting the urge to bite back. An urge that finally overwhelmed him as Brass spoke once again.

"So Gil, you want to fill me in on what we've got here?" He raised both hands in a submissive gesture. "Only if you don't mind, of course; I'd hate to put you to any trouble."

"Okay, I think that's about enough." Pulling the camera strap off his shoulder, Grissom thrust the instrument in Sara's direction. "Could you finish up here; Jim and I need to have a little talk."

"Griss- "

"Don't worry; nothing's going to happen." He assured her before turning his attention towards Jim. "Away from here though; I'd rather not have this discussion over a dead body."

Without waiting for comment, Grissom turned abruptly and headed away from the scene leaving both Brass and Sara staring after him. As he disappeared around the far side of the parked SUVs, Brass gave a quick bemused laugh.

"Guess he's not as thick-skinned as I thought."

"I'm so glad you find that funny, Jim." Sara shot him a disgusted look before turning her back on him as she moved down to complete the task of photographing the body.

"Oh, believe me." Jim watched her go before glancing down at the victim on the ground in front of him. "Funny is the last thing I think any of this is."

* * *

Walking up the side of the Denali, Brass could see Grissom waiting for him through the tinted windows of the big SUV.

Leaning against the hood of Vega's unmarked Ford, with his arms behind him supporting his weight and his legs somewhat extended, his relaxed, casual demeanor belied the anger that flashed in his eyes at his friend's arrival.

"Do you really think now is the right time for this?"

Jim leaned back against the rear of the Denali, his pose mimicked that of the man opposite and, with an ingenuous smile, he feigned ignorance. "Right time for what?"

"For your attitude." Grissom spat back. ""We've have a job to do here and it's going to go a lot quicker, not to mention a lot smoother, if I don't have to listen to you sniping at me from the sidelines. You want to take a pop at me, that's fine, but don't do it here and don't do it in front of a member of my team; it's not fair to drag other people into the middle of your shit!"

"My shit?" He laughed hollowly. "Oh, that's rich coming from the man who started all of this."

"I didn't start anything, Jim and you know it." With the release of that initial spark of anger, Grissom instantly calmed. "Look, I don't want to argue with you, okay; as far as I'm concerned the only thing that matters at the moment is getting this scene processed so, if the only reason you came out here was to have a go at me then I really think you need to leave now and hand the whole thing over to Vega."

It was the last thing Jim had expected him to say and he blinked in surprise. "You want me off the case?"

"I didn't say that; don't put words in my mouth." Grissom sighed. "Look, I screwed up the other day, I admit that; I should have let you know the court's decision straight away but it had been a long night and, to be honest, I just wanted to go home and go to bed." Seeing Jim's mouth start to open, he beat him to the punch. "I'm not making excuses; simply explaining the facts."

Brass eyed him uneasily. "You really think it's going to be that easy?"

"I've already said I'm sorry." Grissom pointed out. "What more do you want?"

"An assurance that it won't happen again would be nice." Jim pushed off from the back of the SUV and started to pace. "Jeez Gil, you _knew_ I was waiting for that call."

"I know."

"Whether you like it or not, at the moment, you're the only link I have to Ellie and that child and if you cut me out of the loop..."

"I won't cut you out." Grissom told him solemnly. "I promise; the minute I know something so will you."

Brass stopped his pacing and turned to look at his old friend, holding Grissom's level gaze for a few seconds before releasing a defeated sigh.

"Did you take that DNA test today?"

"Yeah." Grissom chuckled. "Kind of strange being on the other end of the swab."

"So it's all down to Ellie now, huh?"

"She's got six weeks to bring Caleb in for testing." Grissom replied. "Whether she does or not..." He shrugged. "It's up to her; I've done my part."

Jim nodded and Gil frowned at the detective's weary appearance. "You sleeping alright, Jim?"

Brass automatically brushed off the query. "Things have been a bit busy this week; you know how it gets."

Grissom nodded slowly. "We haven't seen much of you lately; the Lab's been kind of quite the past few days."

"Yeah well, that's what happens when you piss people off." Brass winced, realizing that he's snapped. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He nodded his head towards the line of SUVs. "Where's everybody else?"

"Warrick and Nick are somewhere on the other side of the lot looking for evidence while Catherine's chasing up security footage of this area. According to the guard, the building's cameras probably don't reach this far into the car park but there's the YMCA and a church just across the road that both have cameras pointed in this direction." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."

When Jim failed to answer, Grissom eyed him curiously. "We're alright now, aren't we?"

"Yeah." Jim almost grudgingly conceded. "There was no real harm done. I guess, maybe, I was being a bit hard on you."

"A bit?" Grissom chuckled. "My mother gave me an easier time of it after I almost blew up the house."

"Just as well I'm not your mother then, isn't it?" Stepping back away from the vehicles, Jim gestured towards the body. "Earlier kickoff than you predicted."

"The original victim wasn't found until around 6am while this one was called in at twenty minutes past one, our killer may be able to replicate the manner of death and even find a similar victim but modern-day Las Vegas is nothing like Victorian London; there's just too much street lighting and people milling about to conceal a body for long."

Brass pulled out his notebook. "So, you want to fill me in on what we've got?"

"At a guess, she's in her late thirties." He began. "We don't have an ID as yet but the security guard who found her says she works this area almost every night so I imagine her prints will be in AFIS. The two slashes across the throat matches the last victim and her left earring has also been ripped out so, as far as I'm concerned, there's almost no doubt that we're looking at the same murderer."

"What about that stomach wound?" Jim asked. "That's a lot worse than the last one."

"Annie Chapman, the original fourth victim, was found minus her uterus." Grissom explained. "We won't know for sure until David gets here but I'm willing to bet that when he checks that wound he'll find our vic's is missing too."

Jim's head came up quickly. "Missing as in 'it's probably lying around her someplace' or missing as in 'the killer's taken it with him'?"

Grissom shrugged. "That's something else Nick and Warrick are searching for but I don't think they'll find it here."

"Better them than me." Brass commented, wincing slightly at the thought of coming across the discarded organ. "Think she's been raped?"

"Well, there's nothing particularly sexual about the way she's been left." Turning, Grissom glanced back at the body on the ground. "Again, we'll have to wait until David clears her but rape isn't part of the script and the killer's stuck to it so far..." He shook his head. "I don't think he'll start adlibbing just yet."

At the sound of a vehicle approaching both men turned and followed the progress of the Coroner's van as it made its way through the lot towards them before coming to a stop a few yards from where they stood.

"It's about time." Grissom commented as he walked passed the opening driver's door. "Nice of you to finally join us, David." Heading towards the back of the van, Grissom had already pulled open the rear doors before David could join him.

"Sorry, couldn't be helped." Moving swiftly Phillips, grabbed his medical bag. "I had two hospital pickups I had to drop off first. I did get here as quickly as I could."

Jim pocketed his notebook again as the two men pulled a gurney from the back of the van.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it; I'm going to check in with Vega and see what he's managed to find out and then see about getting an ID on the victim." He turned to face Grissom. "I'll see you back at the Lab."

"Yeah, we'll see you, Jim." With the argument settled and the coroner's assistant now on the scene, the only thing Grissom was interested in was getting the body cleared and the rest of the scene processed. "Come on, David; let's go see what our latest victim has to tell us."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 8**

"We're not going to find anything you know." Sliding another glass slide underneath his microscope, David Hodges squinted into the instrument's eyepiece as he adjusted the focus.

"We haven't even finished processing the evidence, Hodges." Standing a few feet away, Greg looked up from his own task to glare at the man beside him. "Don't count us out yet."

"Oh, come on." The Trace tech snorted. "There was nothing on her clothes, nothing in her hair and..." Lifting the slide back out again, he lined it up with the other nine. "there's absolutely nothing from her fingernail scrapings. Let's face it; we're wasting our time here."

"It has to be done, you know that." Greg stared warily at a balled-up napkin before deciding that he was looking at ketchup and not blood. "Besides there's no such thing as a perfect crime."

"Could have fooled me." Stacking the slides on top of each other, Hodges slipped them into a carefully marked box and set them aside before turning on his stool to look at the busy criminalist. "So, Grissom knocked up Ellie Brass, huh?"

Greg froze. Having spent the past three hours doing his best to ignore the lab rat's incessant prattling, his initial thought was that he'd misheard the question and it wasn't until Hodges spoke again that he realized he actually wasn't mistaken at all.

"Talk about playing with fire." Oblivious to his companion's reaction, Hodges carried on. "Not only is she a cop's daughter but, from what I've heard, she's a junkie and a hooker as well."

"What the hell is your problem?" Trying his best to remain professional, Greg stripped off his latex gloves and pushed himself away from the work top. "You know, actually, I don't care; I'm taking a break, I've had enough."

"I mean the man's supposed to be so smart but he can't work out how _not_ to get his best friend's daughter pregnant?"

"That's enough!" Spinning quickly, Greg grabbed hold of the other man's shirt. "Say one more word and I swear you're going to regret it."

"And precisely what are you going to do?" Squaring up to the younger man, Hodges allowed himself a derisive laugh. "Everyone in the Lab's talking about it, Sanders; you going to take us all on?"

"If he does, he won't be alone."

Shaking free of Greg's grip, Hodges whirled as the Texan drawl of Nick Stokes came from directly behind him, the lanky form of Warrick Brown standing just a few feet away in the Trace lab's entry. With his back to the door, he'd been unaware of their approach and both men watched the blood drain from the lab tech's face as he realized he was outnumbered.

"You got any more gossip you want to share with us, Hodges?" With an expression of disgust, Nick took a step forward. "Or are you all out of poison to spread?"

"Hey, I'm just repeating what I've heard that's all." Stepping backwards in counterpoint, he raised both hands as if in surrender. "You can hardly blame me if Grissom's been caught with his pants down."

Nick's usually easy smile turned into an icy grin. "You've already been warned once, man, I really wouldn't push it if I were you."

"Well, it's not like that memo Ecklie put out actually fooled anyone." Backed into a corner, Hodges continues to bluster. "It was obvious that was just a cover up."

"You just don't know when to shut up do you?" Warrick decided he'd heard enough. "Nick, how about you and Greg go and grab some coffee? I'll catch up with you in a second."

Nick hesitated, his gaze switching from Hodges to Warrick and back again. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he turned away.

"Come on, Greg; we'll let Rick handle this." Throwing his arm around his younger colleague, Nick led him into the hallway. "He knows how to hit so the marks don't show."

"But, shouldn't we-" Greg tried to turn back only to feel the arm on his shoulder tighten.

"Nah, don't worry about it." Reaching out, Nick pulled at the lab's sliding door. "Hodges deserves everything he's about to get."

After making sure that the door was properly shut, Warrick leaned against it and stared at the man just a few feet away. Nick's parting words had put an end to Hodges bravado and now the lab tech stood warily, obviously waiting for Warrick to make his move. Instead, the CSI laughed.

"Don't worry, Hodges, I'm not going to hit you." Grabbing the nearest stool, Warrick took a seat. "As satisfying as it would be I just don't think you're worth the assault charge."

He watched as the man visibly relaxed; the breath he'd been holding escaping in a rush.

"I -"

"Wait." Warrick held up a finger in warning. "I'm not finished; I might not hit you but I can't promise anything about Nick or Greg for that matter and there's Jim Brass to take into account too, after all, you did just call his daughter a whore, didn't you?"

"I didn't- "

Warrick's finger came up again. "You know what really amazes me about this though, Hodges? There's only one person in this entire lab that can actually tolerate your presence and this is the way you repay him; I would have thought you'd known Grissom long enough by now to know that he's not capable of any of this."

This time there was no interjection and Warrick was gratified to see Hodges gaze drop to the floor.

"You see, Hodges, people around here defend their friends; they don't condemn them." Standing up, he pushed the stool back under the table and headed for the door. "Of course, you've got to actually have friends for that to happen though, don't you."

Praying his humiliation was over; Hodges looked up hopefully at the sound of the door opening only to find Warrick waiting with one last piece of advice.

"I don't know what's up with you lately and, frankly I don't care, but if you're half as smart as you claim to be you'll do something about because the way you've been acting lately, I don't think it's going to be too long before someone decides to do it for you."

* * *

Pushing through the stairwell door, Grissom glanced quickly at the wall clock as he made his way down the hallway; half an hour until the end of shift and, as far as he was concerned, it couldn't come quickly enough. It had been a long and tiring shift and having just spent the last two hours of it down in the morgue, he was more than ready to call it night.

Dropping the last of the swabs Al Robbins had collected off with Wendy, Grissom headed directly for the break room and a much needed cup of coffee.

"Finished already?" Seated alone at the large table, an empty yoghurt tub and coffee cup in front of her, Sara looked up with a smile as he entered. "Doc trying to break a record or what?"

"He was still going when I left; I didn't see much point in sticking round till the end." Filling a cup with coffee, Grissom carried it over and took the seat beside hers. "You lost your bet by the way; COD was exsanguination and she is now officially confirmed as victim number four."

"She's also officially confirmed as Lisa Halstead." Flipping open the file beside her, Sara read from the top page. "Age forty-three, countless arrests for solicitation as well as two more recent ones for shoplifting. Jim took a drive out to the address in her records but there was no one at home; he said he'd swing by again later on this morning."

"He still around?"

"Took off about an hour ago." Entering the break room, Warrick headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a soda before dropping into a vacant seat. "Said he'd give you a call if anything new came up. How'd the autopsy go; anything missing apart from the uterus?"

"No, just that." Grissom told them. "According to Robbins, the excision was clean and precise; exactly as I expected it would be."

"You know, a lot of people over the years have thought that the original Ripper was a doctor of some sort." Warrick popped the top from his can and took a swig. "Could that be what we're looking at here?"

"I'm not discounting it." Grissom admitted. "It's definitely a line of inquiry that needs to be looked into but the truth is that you could hand anyone an anatomy book and a sharp knife and, eventually, they'll get you the body part you ask for; the fact that our killer manages to get the job done so quickly and efficiently _may_ be because he's a trained professional but, then again, it may just mean he's had longer to study the book."

"Trained or not, he's very careful about his own safety; all the blood at the scene belonged to the victim." Sara told them. "I've filled in as much as I could of the fourth chart in the layout room; all I'm waiting for now are the rest of the results coming in and we'll be up to date."

Grissom nodded his approval. "Wendy's only just starting on the autopsy swabs so it'll be tonight before we get anything back on them." He turned to Warrick. "You and Nick have any luck out at the scene?

"We trawled through every trashcan and dumpster around that area." Warrick sniffed cautiously at his sleeve, still not entirely convinced that he's managed to kill the stench. "We came across plenty of nasty things in our search but definitely no uterus." Both shoulders came up in an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Griss."

"Not your fault." He quickly stifled a yawn. "How's Greg doing? Wasn't he following up on the rest of the evidence?"

"Actually, I kind off sent him home early." Warrick admitted warily. "Things got a little heated in the Trace lab earlier on and, since both you and Catherine were busy, I decided to get him out of here in case it all kicked off again".

Grissom frowned. "What was the problem?"

"You really need to ask?" Warrick shifted uncomfortable on his chair. "I don't want to sound like I'm stepping out of line here, Griss but I think you're going to have to do something about Hodges; the way he was mouthing off back there.... let's just say he's getting out of hand."

"That's all that I need." Lifting his right hand, Grissom tried unsuccessfully to massage the sudden tension out of his neck. "Alright, leave it with me." Suddenly realizing that Greg wasn't the only one missing, he glanced out into the hallway. "Where is Catherine anyway? I thought she was still here."

"She got a call from that social worker friend of yours about an hour ago, looks like she may have some information for us." Sara explained. "Cath told her she'd meet her at Frank's for an early breakfast; said you might want to drop by if you got off on time."

"Doesn't look like that's going to happen, does it?" A phone beeped and Grissom flipped his open, reading the message quickly before shoving it back in his pocket. "That's Archie; I'm going to have to go." Draining the last of his coffee, he got to his feet. "Look, if the two of you have finished up with what you were doing you should both head off as well, there's only another half hour to go so there's not much point in sticking around."

"You sure?" Sara looked up in surprise. "I don't mind sticking round for a while longer to help out."

"I know you don't but, really, there's no rush with this one." Ready to leave, Grissom moved to the door. "If the killer sticks to the schedule then we've got just over three weeks until he's strikes again so I want to use that time wisely. We'll go over everything again when we come in tonight but I don't want something to be missed because people are overworked or overtired so, if you're done I want you to call it a day and go home." He glanced over at Warrick. "Same goes for Nick, so make sure he knows, okay?"

"But-"

"I mean it, Sara, go home; we'll come at it fresh next shift."

"Come on, girl, stop arguing." Warrick crumpled his empty can and tossed it in a perfect arc towards the bin. "When the boss tells you to go home early the best thing to do is go before he changes his mind." Pushing himself to his feet, he headed for the door. "I'll see you both tonight."

Sara watched him go, waiting until he was well clear of the room before standing and eyeing Grissom carefully.

"I hope this isn't one of those 'do as I say and not as I do' occasions." She crossed both arms in front of her. "I noticed that yawn before; you need your sleep as well, you know."

"And I plan on getting it." Grissom smiled softly. "Don't worry, when I said there was no rush I meant it, I'll see what Archie wants and then have a word with Hodges; find out what he has to say for himself." He glanced around quickly, ensuring no one could overhear. "With any luck, I'll be home within the hour."

"You really think you'll be able to sort David Hodges out in under an hour?" Pushing off the table, Sara finally headed for the door. "I would have thought that'd be a lifetime's work."

"Well, I think I'll leave most of it up to whatever poor therapist is going to end up treating the man; I'll just be satisfied if I can solve the mystery of his latest behavior." Falling into step beside her, he reached across and snagged the victim's file from her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the locker room."

* * *

"You paged me?" Standing in the doorway of the darkened A/V lab, Grissom allowed his eyes to adjust to the different light level before entering the room properly.

"Yeah, I did." Looking up from the computer screen in front of him, Archie shifted nervously on his stool. "You might want to pull that door closed behind you."

Cocking his head to the side, Grissom gave the tech a questioning look before reaching back and shutting the door. "I take it you've found something."

"You could say that." Pulling out the stool next to him, Archie waited for Grissom to take a seat. "Catherine left me with the security footage from the cameras around your crime scene and I've come across something that I think you really need to see."

"Okay."

"First of all, the video from the mall itself is useless; the cameras just don't cover that area of the lot at all."

"We were expecting that." Grissom commented. "All of those particular cameras are down closer to the buildings; the security guard explained that at the scene."

"Then there's the YMCA across the road." The A/V tech continued. "Those cameras cover their car park and tennis court but nothing else so that's no good to us either."

"Which leaves us with the church."

"Right." Archie agreed as he quickly opened up the applicable file on his computer. "They have one camera out the back; from the quality of the footage I'd guess it's one of those do-it-yourself home security setups you can pickup in any electronics store." Pressing a key, the image was instantly projected onto the large screen at the front of the room. "It's not fantastic but it was good enough to capture this."

The black and white image was grainy and, from the angle of the shot, Grissom guessed that the camera was mounted somewhere near the church's roof. Although it covered all of the small parking area at the back of the building, the main focus area was an alcove halfway along the rear wall; a small, secluded niche that he assumed would be out of sight of the street. The mall's guard had mentioned that he often disturbed the local ladies and their customers mid 'transaction' and, from the looks of things, the church had been encountering similar problems and had installed the camera as a deterrent.

Movement drew his eye to the top left-hand corner of the screen and Grissom watched in amazement as their victim and a male figure strode purposefully past the entrance to the lot. Her companion was almost generic; average height and average build but there was something about his walk as well as his furtive glance from side to side that struck a chord with Grissom. The pair had just walked out of shot when Archie paused the footage.

"According to the timestamp that was taken at 11:48 last night." He turned to face his boss. "That's just over an hour before her body was found across the street."

"Can you isolate that area of the shot and clean it up?" Grissom asked hopefully. "See if we can get a decent picture of this guy?"

"I've already done it; in fact, that's when I paged you." Hitting alt-tab, Archie switched screens. "It was when I saw this that I knew we had trouble."

The close-up was a testament to the A/V tech's skills; the graininess has been smoothed out and the brightness and contrast corrected leaving them with a crystal clear photograph of the man who, in all likelihood, was either their victim's final client or her killer.

Sitting frozen on his stool, his eyes glued to the screen, Grissom felt the breath catch in his throat as he stared into the all too familiar face of David Hodges.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 9**

"David!"

Using one arm to prop open the locker room door, Grissom leant into the room, his attention fixed on the man standing just a few short yards away. "I need a word with you in my office before you leave."

"I don't have time right now." Hodges glanced dismissively over his shoulder before turning back to his open locker. "Whatever it is it's going to have to wait."

"Excuse me?" Grissom blinked twice, not quite believing what he'd just heard. Pushing the door open fully, he took two steps forward before allowing it to swing shut behind him.

"I said I can't do this now." Pulling a jacket from the locker, Hodges shrugged it on before turning to face Grissom. "I'm sorry but there's somewhere I need to be."

"Yes, there is..." A bemused smile appeared on Gil's face as he took in the man's arrogant stance. "my office in five minutes."

"I have just told you I can't stay." Hodges eyes flashed with anger and contempt. "Now, will you please move out of the way so that I can leave?"

Surprised by the insolence, Grissom glared back at the man in front of him. In the years since Hodges had joined the lab, he'd become used to his fawning, sycophantic ways but there was no sign of that now; in it's place was what appeared to be a cold, deep-seated disdain and Grissom knew that he had no choice other than to take the upper hand now before the situation spiraled completely out of control. Moving quickly, he crossed the distance between them, bringing his right arm up to slam against the still open locker door.

Shocked by the sudden action and the resulting clatter of metal on metal, Hodges flinched and took a step backwards, his eyes fixed on Grissom as the older man stopped barely a foot away from him.

"You know, Hodges, I was really hoping we could deal with this like adults but since you insist on acting like an overgrown teenager, I guess we'll have to do it a different way instead." Leaning forward slightly, Grissom kept his voice low, enunciating each word clearly and carefully as he spoke almost directly into the errant tech's ear. "In five minutes time, I'll either be sitting in my office with you or I'll be on the phone to Jim Brass arranging to have you pulled over, slapped in cuffs and hauled into PD."

Hodges's gasped audibly and Grissom waited a beat before continuing.

"Now, at this point, I'm happy to go with either option but, in the interest of fairness, I'm going to leave the decision up to you."

Not waiting for a response, he turned quickly and headed for the door, pulling it open before glancing back one last time.

"If you do decide to stick around you know where to find me."

* * *

Seated behind his desk, Grissom was reviewing the case notes when Hodges announced his presence with a terse knock on the glass panel. Without looking up, he nodded quickly towards the nearest of the visitor's chairs before returning his attention to the file in front of him.

"Shut the door and take a seat; I'll only be a second."

As Hodges got settled, Grissom glanced up and took the opportunity to examine the man more closely. The shocked expression of a few minutes ago had gone and in its place was one of righteous indignation; the pursed lips and impatiently tapping foot screaming both resentment and anger at the way he felt he'd been treated. Gil wasn't at all surprised when the tech decided to get in the first blow.

"If this is about what happened earlier with Sanders, I just want to say that none of it was my fault; in fact, I want to file a complaint against both him _and_ Stokes for the threats they made." Crossing both arms across his chest, he waited a beat for Grissom to digest what he'd said before continuing. "And, since we're on the subject, I want it on the record that I do not appreciate the threat _you_ just issued in the locker room; there was no call for it and, as far as I'm concerned, you were completely out of line."

Confident that he'd preempted the dressing down he'd been sure was heading his way; Hodges allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he awaited a response but he was more than slightly nonplussed when Grissom ignored his speech completely in order to ask a question of his own.

"You were late for the start of shift?"

"Um... yes." Taken aback, Hodges drew out his answer. "I did get here as soon as I could though; I called Judy and left you a message, you should have got it."

"I did." Grissom assured him, pulling the yellow slip out from underneath the case file. "But what I don't understand is you calling here at..." He scanned the note quickly for the timestamp. "Five minutes past ten to say your car had broken down and you'd be late but then not actually getting here until almost twelve-thirty." He looked across the desk questioningly. "What were you doing in the meantime?"

"Uh, I was at home; I couldn't go anywhere." Confused and wary, Hodges gaze automatically dropped to his lap as he struggled to make sense of the unexpected line of questioning. "I... I called Triple A and then had to wait for the mechanic to arrive."

"And it took him all that time to come out?"

"Busy night apparently." Hodges nodded hoping that the gesture would solidify his bluff. "Luckily it was just my battery; he jumpstarted the car and I was on my way."

"So they'll have a record of this, right?" Grissom pressed, tenting his fingers and resting his hands on his desktop as he stared at the man across from him.

Panic instantly flashed across Hodges' face. "Sorry?"

"Triple A" Grissom clarified. "They'll have a record of your car breaking down and their mechanic coming out and starting it for you." He watched as the tech's eyes widened in fear. "Right, David?"

"Well.... well, yes they should." Hodges blundered, desperate to find a way out of his predicament. "But, like I said, it was a busy night so-"

Grissom's lips quirked up into a half-smile as he picked up the message slip, crumpled it in his hand and dropped it casually onto the floor. "Try again."

"What?" Hodges' frightened gaze traveled from Grissom to the balled up paper and back again. "I... I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." Pushing himself up out of his seat, Grissom picked up the case file before walking round to lean against the edge of the desk. "I don't know where you were at ten o'clock last night when you called Judy but I do know where you were at quarter to twelve and what's more, David, I know exactly who you were with." Opening up the folder, he pulled out a photograph and tossed it down onto Hodges lap.

His brow furrowed in confusion, Hodges gaze automatically dropped down to examine the picture and instantly felt his breath catch as he recognized the face staring back at him. Taken barely three weeks earlier, Lisa Halstead glared directly into the camera lens, her expression one of both anger and defiance. He'd only just realized that what he was looking at was a LVPD booking shot when Grissom's voice broke through once again.

"Doesn't look familiar, David?" Anger rising, Gil flipped through a few more pictures before he selected one and tossed it carelessly on top of the first. "How about in this one then?"

Taken from the security footage, the still image showed the two figures passing by the church's driveway and, although the definition wasn't clear enough to identify either party, Hodges stomach dropped even further when he realized for certain that he'd been caught out. His eyes came up, locking with the furious ones of his boss.

"I-"

"Don't say a word." Grissom ordered as he shuffled through a few more shots. "I've got more to show you and, personally, I think this one's my favorite." He held it out the enhanced close-up for Hodges to see before throwing it down to join the others and felt a measure of satisfaction as the tech's face paled even further.

"I, I..." Hodges began, struggling to find someway to explain himself; he gave up when he couldn't find the words. His head dropped down in dismay and embarrassment. "It's not what it looks like."

"I think it's exactly what it looks like." Grissom spat as he pulled one final photograph from the pile. "So how about we see what she looked like an hour later when they found her body."

"What?" David's head snapped up quickly. "She's not dead." His head shook in denial. "She can't be dead."

"I was at her autopsy, David, I assure you, she's definitely dead." Grissom casually flipped the folder closed and locked his eyes with those of the seated man. "Now what I want to know now is what the hell you were doing there in the first place."

* * *

They sat in silence for the next five minutes; Grissom staring almost unblinkingly at the man seated opposite whilst Hodges gaze never left the one photograph he still held in his hand. A cell phone rang and Gil flipped his open to read the screen before rejecting the call and sending it to voicemail; Catherine could wait, this couldn't.

"Your choice is simple, David." Calmer now, Gil's voice held none of the venom of his earlier ultimatum. "You either explain it to me or you explain it to Captain Brass; which would you prefer?"

"I thought I had the right to remain silent." Placing the close-up of himself on the desk, Hodges glared petulantly at his boss.

"You're not under arrest." Grissom sighed, frustration slowly returning. "Look, I don't think you had anything to do with these murders, I really don't believe you have it in you but there's no denying those photographs; you were at that crime scene with the victim less than an hour before she was killed. I can help you out, David, I _want_ to help you out but I can't do anything unless you tell me the truth."

Grissom looked on as Hodges processed his words, watched as the tech weighed up his options and knew the exact moment that the decision was made.

"I didn't plan it." Shoulders slumped and head bowed, Hodges quietly uttered the words Grissom had been hoping he wouldn't have to hear. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

Stunned, Gil could only stare in disbelief as Hodges' head came back up and he continued to talk.

"I've been driving past that corner everyday for months now and it doesn't matter what time it is, they're always out there waiting for business." Ashamed at his own behavior, his eyes darted around the cluttered office, landing everywhere except on his supervisor. "I'd never really paid much attention to them before, I'd certainly never considered stopping, but last night I pulled over and I..." He shrugged. "I just couldn't help myself."

"What exactly did you do?" Grissom dreaded the answer but needed to know.

Hodges took a deep breath before answering. "I asked how much."

Grissom blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I asked how much for sex." Hodges clarified, both cheeks bright red with embarrassment. "We came to an arrangement and then she took me to the alley that runs along the side of the YMCA and-"

"But you didn't kill her?" Grissom needed to hear an actual denial.

"No!" Hodges huffed, clearly offended by the question. "I promise you, she was alive and well when I left her."

"Thank God for that." Sighing in relief, Grissom leaned back in his seat. "That was starting to sound like a confession."

"I didn't kill her." Slumping back himself, Hodges finally looked Grissom in the eye. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know." Grissom scrubbed a hand over his face as the tension of the past hour finally started to lift. "I'm sorry, David but I had to be sure." His brow furrowed as another question occurred to him. "Why?"

Hodges was lost. "Why what?"

"Why would you do something like that?" Sitting upright again, Grissom eyed the tech quizzically. "You know the dangers of dealing with street prostitutes; why would you put yourself at risk like that?"

Hodges shrugged. "It was a spur of the moment decision; it's not like I do it on a regular basis." He surprised Grissom with a caustic chuckle. "What are the odds? Twice in my life I try to procure the services of a... professional and twice I get caught out; who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?"

"It was a stupid thing to do, David." Grissom groaned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "I just dropped the autopsy swabs off with Wendy; are we going to find your DNA on them?"

"No." Hodges face flushed pink again. "I never... I couldn't... Nothing happened, alright; can we just leave it at that."

"Hodges, you went up a dark alley with a known prostitute." Grissom pointed out. "Nobody's going to believe that nothing happened."

"It didn't!" Hodges took a deep breath. "I went there for that but..."

"But what?"

"But I couldn't..." Beyond embarrassment now, he returned Grissom's curious stare. "I couldn't perform, okay?"

Grissom winced in sympathy. "I see."

"She offered to help but, by that time, all I wanted to do was get back in my car and get out of there." He sighed. "And a couple of minutes later that's exactly what I did."

"So nothing took place? Nothing at all?"

"No, nothing took place." Hodges shook his head. "I went there for stress relief and ended up more frustrated than ever."

"What were you doing there anyway?" Grissom frowned. "It's nowhere near your home _or_ the lab?"

With one of his secrets revealed, David realized there was no point in holding back on the second one and pulled himself up straighter in the chair as he met Grissom's curious stare.

"A little over a year ago my mother discovered a lump; she never said a word about it, never got it checked out." Bitterness laced his voice. "She just ignored it and hoped it would go away."

"That's a fairly common reaction." Grissom told him. "Despite all the medical advances and public education, people are still terrified when something like that happens."

Hodges nodded his agreement before continuing. "Then, about three months ago, she started getting back pains and I made her go and see her doctor; turns out she has stage four breast cancer that's spread to her liver and bones; they gave her six months but I don't think she's going to make it that far." He took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. "I kept her at home for as long as possible but I just couldn't do it anymore. I managed to find her a place in a hospice in Spring Valley, that's where I spend most of my time now."

He sniffed and swiped at his nose and Grissom pushed his chair to the side, retrieving a box of tissues before sliding it across the desk then waited as the other man took one and blew his nose.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want anyone to know." Hodges met his stare, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. "I didn't want pity; that would have only made it worse."

"That's what all the moods have been about, why you've been missing work so much." Gil sighed wearily. "Well, you're going to have to tell people about it now." He held up a finger as Hodges tried to interject. "You can't handle this on your own."

"Well I don't have any family." Hodges' tone turned cold. "And I don't have any friends either; Warrick pointed that out a couple of hours ago."

Grissom decided not to comment on that remark. "_And_ we're going to have to explain to Ecklie and the sheriff why any trace evidence that's found in tonight's case has now been contaminated."

"But Sanders was with me the whole time." Panic appeared in the tech's eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"We can't take the risk." Grissom pointed out. "Any defense attorney worth their salt is going to jump all over us if they find out a possible suspect not only had access to the evidence but actually processed some of it." He bit his lip as he ran through all possible scenarios. "I think the only way we can ensure this doesn't blow up in our faces is if you're nowhere near either the evidence _or_ the investigation."

Hodges eyes widened in surprise. "You mean I'm going to be suspended?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'on leave'." Grissom explained. "You've got a backlog of vacation time and if we need to we can switch you to administrative leave at the end of it." He gave Hodges a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it won't come to that though; as soon as we solve this case you can come straight back to work."

Knowing he had no real alternative, Hodges nodded.

"What happens now?"

"Now, we'll meet with Ecklie and explain it all to him; if he agrees with our plan you'll be on indefinite leave effective immediately."

"No one's going to find out about what happened tonight, are they?" Hodges turned pleading eyes on his boss. "I mean no one from the lab."

"Well Archie's the one that IDed you but he's sworn to silence and I don't plan on telling anyone unless they _need_ to know." Grissom shrugged "I can't promise people won't find out, David but I'll do my best to keep it under wraps." He checked his watch. "Okay, Conrad should be here in about ten minutes so, how about you go and grab a coffee while I get everything together in here; as soon as he arrives we'll go in together."

Resigned to his fate, Hodges got to his feet and turned towards the door only to be called back the minute he grabbed the handle.

"Warrick was wrong when he said you had no friends." Grissom told him sincerely. "If you need anything, anything at all, I want you to call me, okay?"

With a curt nod, Hodges pulled open the office door and headed for the break room.

* * *

Gathering the night's paperwork into a pile, Grissom shoved it to one side and began tidying the rest of his desk; picking up the three photographs of their latest victim he slid them back into the case file and placed it almost reverently on top of his inbox.

Turning to survey the rest of his office, he started as his cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket unsurprised to discover that it was Catherine calling back.

"Are you planning on stopping by here or not?" Her greeting was brusque and Grissom winced at the tone. "Because if you can't be bothered both Elaine and I have other things we could be doing."

Genuinely confused, Grissom frowned. "Where are you?"

"Frank's Diner, remember? Catherine's 'tut' of annoyance spoke volumes. "Sara _was_ supposed to pass on my message."

"She did." Suddenly the memory returned. "I'm sorry, Catherine; something's come up, I'm not going to be able to make it."

"You're still at the lab?"

"Slight…" Grissom struggled for an explanation. "…personnel problem; I'm not sure how long everything's going to take but it might be a while before I finally get out of here."

"Don't tell me you finally had it out with Hodges." When he didn't answer, Catherine knew she was right. "Well, good for you; it's about time you put him in his place."

Remembering his promise to the man, Grissom changed the subject. "Sara said Elaine had some information for us; I take it that's why you wanted me drop by"

"Yes." Catherine confirmed. "She wasn't sure whether it had anything to with our case or not and, as it turns out, it doesn't but I think you'll find it interesting nonetheless."

"Okay." Grissom was intrigued. "What is it?"

"Elaine put the word out, asking about strangers hanging about, weird customers, anything out of the ordinary really and, as it turns out, someone _has_ been doing the rounds asking a lot of questions recently."

Gil frowned. "And you're sure that it has nothing to do with the case?"

"Oh. I'm pretty sure." Catherine replied. "According to Elaine this person only wanted information on one particular person: Ellie Brass."

"Oh, dammit." Dropping back into his seat, Grissom ran his hand through his hair. "He promised me he wouldn't do anything like that."

"It's not Jim, Gil, I have no doubt he's behind it but the description Elaine got was for a female, mid to late thirties with blond hair; a couple of the ladies swore they've seen her around before… they're pretty sure she's a cop."

"He's using Sofia." Grissom sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised really; we are talking about his daughter after all… and his grandson."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I can't really blame him for trying to find her and I suppose if he's doing it through Sofia he's not actually breaking the restraining order."

"You think Ellie's lawyer will see it that way?" Catherine asked. "Or the Family Court for that matter?"

"No, probably not." Seeing movement out in the corridor, Grissom watched as Conrad Ecklie, briefcase in hand, strolled towards his office. "I've got to go, Cath; there's something I have to do."

"Wait, one more thing." Catherine spoke quickly. "Elaine's invited us for breakfast at her place after shift tomorrow, I thought it'd be nice for her to meet the rest of the team and she's hoping you'll finally pick up the your stuff; I don't know what the hell you've got there, Gil but, from the way she was talking, I think she wants rid of it."

"She said it was just a couple of boxes." He paused a moment to think. "I don't know, Cath; I've got a lot going on at the moment."

"Oh, come on." She urged. "I've already spoken to everyone else, they're all up for it and besides, it'll be good for you to sit back and relax for awhile _plus_ Elaine really wants to catch up with you, it has been four years remember."

Glancing back towards the corridor, he saw Ecklie heading towards him; no doubt off on one of his customary morning tours of the lab. Knowing from experience just how long one of the pedantic assistant lab director's little excursions could take, Gil raised his hand, pointing first at Conrad and then towards his office, and breathed a sigh of relief when, with a nod of understanding, Ecklie turned back around and returned to await his arrival.

"Gil?" Catherine's voice had now taken on a pleading quality. "What do you say? You will come, won't you?"

"Yes, Cath." He'd known she wouldn't let him wriggle out of it and, besides, 'everyone' no doubt included Sara so there was really no point in putting up any further resistance. "Provided nothing comes up I'll be there; just give the details tonight when you come in for shift but I've really got to go now, okay?" He didn't give her a chance to reply. "I'll see you tonight. Bye"

Then, flipping his phone closed, he shoved it back in his pocket, slipped the case file under his arm and went off in search of Hodges.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 10**

**A/N:** A very belated Merry Christmas as well as Happy New Year to you all. This was supposed to have been posted at the beginning of the week but a headache that has, so far, lasted six days pretty much put paid to that plan. At least today I can actually look at a computer screen without the glare making me nauseous so I've managed to get the final edit done and get everything ready for posting; I just hope it all makes sense. ;) It's a little shorter than my usual offerings but the original draft of this chapter was beginning to take on 'War and Peace' proportions so I've pared it down as much as possible and split it into two parts.

* * *

Turning his car into Mountainside Drive, Grissom didn't need to look at the numbers to find the residence he was after; the line of familiar vehicles parked outside was more than enough to guide him in. He pulled the Mercedes in behind Greg's RAV4 and, grabbing the flowers he picked up along the way, headed up the driveway towards the front door.

The single storey house was almost identical to its neighbors, the rendered brick walls painted a soft off-white whilst the window trims and garage doors were a few shades darker. The garden was well established, a row of low growing bushes running along the front of the property while a well-pruned mulberry created shade in one corner. A red Nissan Sentra sat alone in the driveway, further proof that he was at the right address; the only vehicles he'd ever seen Elaine drive had been Nissans and every one of them had been red.

Arriving at the entrance, he lifted his hand to knock when the door suddenly opened in front of him and Elaine smiled happily in welcome.

"It's about time you got here." Pushing the door open wider, she took a step backwards to allow him to enter. "We were beginning to wonder whether you'd make it or not."

"Sorry I'm late; meeting went over and I couldn't get away." Stepping though the doorway, Grissom dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before holding out the bouquet of flowers. "I thought these might make amends."

"You always did know how to get around me, didn't you?" She chuckled in amusement as she took the offering and held it to her nose. "They're lovely, Gil; thank you."

Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it and took in his surroundings. "Smaller than your last place."

"The Summerlin house was fine when there was the two of us living there but with John gone it was just too big." Turning towards the back of the house, she addressed him over her shoulder. "Come on, I'd better get these into some water."

Grissom followed behind her, peering curiously into the rooms they passed but it was only when they reached the kitchen that he realized that the house was unexpectedly silent.

"So, where is everybody?"

"Out on the patio." Opening a cupboard, Elaine pulled out a vase and carried it and the flowers over to the sink. "Catherine warned me yesterday that Sara was a vegetarian so I decided that continental was the way to go and since it was such a lovely morning, I thought we might as well eat outside." Busy arranging the flowers to her liking, she nodded towards the room's French doors. "There's a table full of food out there if you want to go and join them."

Wandering over, Grissom stood in front of the double doors and took in the scene beyond. The rear of the property was little more than a courtyard, raised garden beds lining the boundaries of three sides while the center was covered with flagstone paving. A large, vine covered pergola kept the worst of the Vegas sun at bay allowing the food-laden table, and its five occupants, to remain shaded and cool.

His team looked happy and relaxed, Greg holding court from the head of the table while the others divided their attention between him and the meal they were so obviously enjoying. As if sensing his presence, Sara looked up, a smile lighting up her face as she caught sight of Grissom behind the glass. He returned the smile, raising one hand, fingers splayed, in a 'five minutes' gesture before turning from the doors and addressing their hostess.

"Having they started asking questions yet?"

"About you?" She looked over with a laugh. "Of course they have; they're curious about your past Gil, it's only natural but you can relax, I told them the questions would have to wait until you got here."

"_That's_ something that we need to discuss." Moving back towards the kitchen, he pulled one of the stools away from the breakfast bar and took a seat. "No one here knows much about my time in Minnesota and, if possible, I'd really like to keep it that way."

"Okay." Drawing the word out, Elaine dried her hands before coming to stand in front of him. "I think you'd better tell me what they _do_ know."

"Not a lot." Grissom admitted. "I've kept it to the basics; I moved to Minneapolis to work under Phillip Gerard and three years later I returned to LA." Both shoulders lifted in a shrug. "That's about it really; I've always managed to avoid going into any detail about it."

"But now I'm on the scene and you're worried about what I might tell them." It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"Yeah." He managed a sheepish half-smile. "Something like that."

For goodness sake, Gil, I invited them around here for breakfast not a debriefing; I would never say anything without your approval which is why I told them any questions would have to wait." She sighed in exasperation. "So, no one here knows about A- "

"No!" Grissom quickly cut her off mid-sentence. "And they don't need to either. My friendship with you and John, my work at the lab, anything like that is open for discussion but when it comes to my personal life, especially anything to do with _her_..." His voice was calm and controlled but there was no mistaking the suppressed anger behind the words. "All of that is out of bounds; I've spent too long putting it behind me, I refuse to have it dragged up again now."

Surprised by both what had been said and the vehemence with which it had been delivered, Elaine watched him silently. From the minute he'd turned up at the university, she'd sensed a change in him, an unease that had never been there before; at the time she'd put it down to feelings of guilt over his distance since her husband's death but now she saw it for what it really was: fear of discovery _and_ of the past.

Walking round behind him, she pulled out the stool beside his and made herself comfortable before placing a hand over the nearest of his tightly balled fists.

"I would never have brought that up, Gil." Pushing her fingers between his, she forced him to relax his hand. "That particular part of the story is yours to tell, not mine."

Grissom sighed wearily. "I really didn't mean it to come out that way it did, I just... I needed to make sure."

"That's alright, I understand." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before hoping back down off the stool. "So, now that we're clear on what they can hear about maybe we should also decide on what they can see."

He frowned in confusion. "Sorry?" Turning in his seat he watched as Elaine disappeared from the kitchen reappearing seconds later with a large photo album in her hand.

"Here we go." Placing the book on the counter, she pushed it over in front of him. "Greg asked if I had any photos of you from back then and I told him I'd look some out but I think you should do it." Turning her back on him, she forestalled the protest she knew would be coming. "Just chose a dozen or so that you're comfortable with everyone seeing, that should keep them happy for now and while you're doing that I'll make us all some fresh coffee."

She kept a surreptitious eye on him as she went about her task, pleased to see him start to relax again as he flipped through the pages of the album. He stopped every so often to slip a photo from its place, examining each one closely before adding it to the growing pile on the counter beside him. Elaine knew the book had done what she'd hoped it would when he looked up with a smile.

"I never knew you had so many photos with me in them."

"Well, you did spend a lot time at our place, remember and photography was one of my hobbies back then." Leaving the coffee maker to do its job, she rounded the counter to stand beside him and spread out the pictures he'd chosen. "Bring back some memories?"

"Yeah, they do." He chuckled. "Work, cars, golf and baseball; I guess that pretty much sums up my life back then, doesn't it?"

"Yours and John's." Lifting one of the photos, Elaine ran her thumb affectionately across her husband's image. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

"I guess, in a way, it was." Picking up on her wistful tone, Grissom slipped his arm around her waist. "You still miss him, huh?"

"More than I thought possible." Grateful for the contact, she leaned into him. "That was the one thing we always wanted for you, you know; to find that one person that makes life worth living."

When Grissom failed to comment, Elaine turned to look at him and he met her gaze solemnly for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. "Who says I haven't?"

"So..." Cocking her head to one side, she studied him intently. "Catherine was right then; you do have a secret lover hidden away in that new home of yours."

His smile widened. "She's not exactly hidden away, you know; I do let her out occasionally."

Wary of the flippant tone, Elaine eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And it's serious?"

"Well, we share a dog and a mortgage." Grissom's shrug was nonchalant. "So, yes, you could probably say it's serious."

"Well, I never." Finally convinced that it wasn't a joke, Elaine grinned in pleasure. "That's wonderful, Gil; I'm so pleased for you."

"You can't say anything though." Grissom cautioned. "We're keeping it quiet for now and the last thing either of us need is Catherine running around shooting her mouth off; we'll announce it when the time is right for _us_ not her."

"So, Catherine knows her?" Elaine was quick to jump on the slip. "That'll cut the list of suspects down, won't it?"

"Elaine-"

"Relax, Gil, my lips are sealed." She offered him an ingenuous smile. "Provided, of course, I get to meet this mystery lady of yours."

Grissom's answering grin was relaxed and easy. "I think we can arrange that."

"Arrange what?" Standing in the now open doorway, Catherine took in the close proximity of the couple in front of her. "Well, don't you two look cozy?"

With his arm still around her waist, Elaine felt Grissom tense momentarily and then saw him roll his eyes at the familiar voice. "Didn't you ever learn to knock?"

"I didn't think I'd have to." Entering the room properly, Catherine pulled the door closed behind her. "Sara mentioned that you'd arrived a while ago; I was just coming to see what was keeping you."

"Nothing's keeping me." Grissom let his arm drop as Elaine shifted then watched as she rounded the counter to check the coffee maker. "We're just catching up, that's all."

His colleague couldn't resist the tease. "Hey, we were under the impression that this meal was supposed to be a group affair but if the two of you want to be alone..."

"Catherine!" There was no mistaking the irritation in his voice and Elaine decided it was time to step in.

"Could you take this outside for me please, Catherine?" Lifting the coffee pot from its warmer, Elaine carried it over and placed it on the counter. "I'll just grab another cup for Gil then we'll both join you."

Moving towards the bench top, Catherine lightly placed a hand on Grissom's shoulder as she leant over to pick up the hot carafe. "You know, part of the reason for this little shindig is for Elaine to meet the guys but I also thought it would be a perfect opportunity for everyone to relax and have some fun together." She gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go again. "You've got to loosen up a little, Gil; take things easy for a change."

She smiled and winked at Elaine before turning and heading back to the door and nothing further was said until after she was back outside.

"That was pretty good advice she gave you just then" Leaning back against the counter, Elaine regarded the still-glowering man in front of her. "You go out there all guarded and defensive they're all going to know you're hiding something."

"Yeah, I know." Pushing himself up of the stool, Grissom allowed himself a final long-suffering sigh before pasting a smile on his face. "How's that?"

"Not the most convincing look I've ever come across but it'll do for now." She chuckled softly and his fake smile instantly transformed into a genuine one. "So, we're ready for the inquisition?"

"As ready as we can be." Grissom gave a resigned shrug. "I guess I can't put it off any longer."

"Okay then." Grabbing both the photographs and the extra cup she'd told Catherine she'd bring out, Elaine stood and waited to take his arm. "Let's go join your friends."

* * *

Sofia Curtis shifted uneasily in her seat as she watched Brass scratch the last name from his list. Between them they'd visited over one hundred businesses and neither one had managed to come up with even a hint of Ellie's presence.

"I'm sorry, Jim but I can't think of anywhere else to look." She shrugged helplessly as frustrated about their failure as she knew he was. "If you like I can go back to asking around on the streets but-"

"There's no point." Balling the sheet of paper up, Jim tossed it carelessly onto the desk in front of him. "I don't think she here; not in Vegas anyway."

"That's the feeling I've been getting too." Aware of his family background, Sofia hesitated slightly before voicing the next question but it did have to be asked. "What about her mother? Maybe she'll know where she is?"

"Not a chance." Jim snorted in disgust at the thought of his ex-wife. "I phoned her just after this whole thing kicked off and she wasn't even interested."

"But surely with a baby in the picture."

"Nancy wrote her daughter off years ago." Jim sighed wearily. "The minute she found out how Ellie was making a living she tossed her out on the street and to the best of my knowledge they haven't spoken to each other since." He shook his head. "I really don't think having Caleb would make a difference either; believe me, once Nancy's made her mind up about something it's pretty much set in stone."

Looking around the usually neat office, Sofia took note of the empty coffee cups and takeout containers that filled the waste bin as well as the pile of crumpled clothes that currently occupied one corner of the small room. She frowned at the implication.

"When's the last time you went home?"

"I don't know, a couple of days ago, I guess." Brass ran his hand roughly across his face. "Between working at night and looking for Ellie during the day there hasn't really been much point."

Concern rising, Sofia carefully studied the man seated opposite.

Everything about him screamed exhaustion from the way he slouched in his seat to the dark circles underlining each eye that highlighted the bloodshot orbs themselves.

"So, you've been sleeping here then?"

He gave an almost noncommittal shrug. "I can usually get a couple of hours on the couch without being disturbed; between that and the showers in the locker room, I get by."

"For how long?" Sofia sighed impatiently. "You can't keep this up, Jim; you're not going to be any good to anybody, _especially_ your grandson, if you run yourself into the ground."

"Yeah, I know." Brass rolled his eyes at the well meant reproof. "Don't worry I'll be heading home shortly and, I promise, I'll try and get some decent sleep for a change."

"So, what happens now?" At his look of confusion, Sofia clarified her question. "With Ellie, I mean; are you going to keep trying to find her or just let the courts work everything out?"

"I'm not entirely sure." His brow creased as he debated his next move. "There is one way that I think I may be able to flush her out into the open but I'm going to need some help to carry it out."

"Well…" Sofia offered. "We may not have had any luck so far but I'm always happy to give you a hand, you know that."

"I appreciate it, Sofia, I really do." Jim smiled his gratitude. "But what I have in mind isn't actually something that you can help me with; in fact, there's only one person who can." He took a deep breath before letting it escape as a weary sigh. The question is - will he be willing to do it?"

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 11**

So..." Reaching across the large outdoor table, Greg grabbed the coffee pot and helped himself to a refill. "You knew Grissom when he was in Minnesota?"

"That's right." Seated opposite, Elaine smiled, pleased that her youngest guest was making himself so at home. "We first met in..." She thought for a moment. "1985 I think it was; just after he started work at the lab up there."

"Griss was what?" Nick frowned as he did the math. "Around twenty-eight then?"

"Thereabouts." Elaine nodded. "My husband was a homicide detective with the Minneapolis PD and that's how I came to know Gil; he and John worked a lot together during that time."

"Man, it's hard to imagine him at twenty-eight." Looking up from the collection of photographs spread out in the middle of the table, Warrick smiled across at their hostess. "What was he like back then?"

"Well, he was really just starting out as a CSI." With the agreement on what could and couldn't be disclosed still fresh in her mind, Elaine took her time in formulating an answer and decided to err on the side of caution by sticking firmly to Grissom's professional life. "He was young, dedicated, determined to learn every aspect of the job, which was something that Phillip Gerard took advantage of at every opportunity." She rolled her eyes in disgust. "God, I disliked that man; John couldn't stand him either and he could get on with almost anyone."

"We met Gerard a few years ago." Sara told her with a smile. "He turned up as a defense expert in a case we were working. I don't think he really made a great impression here either."

"I think that's the story wherever Phillip goes." With a quick glance towards the French doors, Elaine made sure that the Grissom was still busy inside the house with his phone call. "Mind you, _someone_ always defended him to the hilt; everybody else could see through Gerard except Gil, to him Phillip was just short of being a god."

"I'm pretty sure that 'god' came to Earth with a thump the day he took his protégé on in the courtroom." Catherine smirked at the memory of the Havilland case then, hearing the doors open behind her, she turned with a smile. "Ecklie get everything fixed?"

"Looks that way." Retaking his seat at the table, Grissom picked up his cup and took a sip, wincing at the taste of the now cold coffee. "Wilson from Days is swapping shifts to cover for Hodges; we could have just gone with a temp but, considering the case we're working on at the moment, I wanted someone we know handling things for us."

"And Sheehan's all right about that?" Warrick asked, all too aware of just how territorial the dayshift supervisor could be

"No, he's screaming favoritism like he always does when Conrad doesn't give him what he wants." Putting his cup down again, Gil pushed it away. "Although how he ever got the idea that Ecklie favors me is anybody's guess."

"I think he's just jealous that we get all the good cases." Sara smiled as Grissom raised an eyebrow at her statement. "If you can call a copy-cat serial killer a 'good' case, that is."

"I'm so sorry your plan about warning the girls didn't work, Gil." Elaine sighed sadly. "I had hoped we'd be able to spread the word far enough to actually make a difference."

"It was Catherine's idea really and you gave it your best shot." He shrugged. "We can only get the warning out there, Elaine; it's up to the women to decide whether they act on it or not."

"I know; it's just a pity we couldn't have done something to prevent this latest one." She thought for a moment. "I think the main problem is the age group of your victims. The younger girls see the value of a buddy system, it gives them a sense of security knowing that their friend has, at least, gotten a look at their customer but when they get a bit older and the lifestyle's starting to take it's toll, their 'buddy' turns into their competition and a lot of them can't afford to work that way anymore."

"Well, it may not have helped this time but that doesn't mean it won't in the future." Catherine told her. "If you and your staff could make sure that the women are at least aware of what's out there, it may still help to save a life or two; particularly since we're able to tell you when it's most likely this guy's going to strike."

"You never did explain how you knew that, did you?" She turned back to Grissom. "You going to fill me in this time, Gil or is it still a state secret?"

"Well, if we're going round warning people I guess it won't stay a secret for long, will it?" He wavered for only a moment. "Our killer is copying Jack the Ripper and, so far, he's doing it very successfully."

"Dear God, that's all Vegas needs." Elaine took a deep breath as the reality of what they were facing sank in. "When's the next one due?"

"Not until September 30th." Grissom told her. "But we're not just looking at one murder on that day; in 1888 there were two."

"That's a three week gap between killings though." She pointed out. "Do you think you'll be able to get him in that time?"

"Well, we're going to give it our best shot but, so far, he's given us nothing to go on and without a lead- "

"I know, I know." With an almost dismissive wave of her hand, Elaine cut off the rest of his sentence. "I was married to a cop remember, I know there's only so much you can do without leads but what about the media; surely letting them in on it can only help? It would at least make _everyone_ aware of what's going on."

"In some respects I agree with you but, at the moment, not having them on our backs is probably helping a lot more." Grissom explained. "Not that I'm expecting it to stay that way; I'm surprised they haven't joined the dots themselves but, even if they don't manage to, I'm sure our killer will be giving them a hand just shortly."

"The Ripper's letters to the press." Sara commented.

"Yeah." He nodded. "The first one the British press received was dated September 25th so it'll be interesting to see just what our guy has planned for that day. It's a lot quicker and easier contacting the media nowadays but, on the other hand, it's a lot harder to hide your tracks and it might just be that communication that trips him up."

"In the meantime we'll just keep plugging away with what we have." Catherine added. "No one's that lucky and no one's that careful; he's made a mistake somewhere along the line so all we just have to do is find it."

"Well, fingers crossed that you do." Elaine told her. "Most of these women have a hard enough life without having to contend with a serial killer."

"Do you only deal with prostitutes at this outreach center of yours?" Warrick asked, intrigued by the thought of the quietly spoken and obviously educated woman associating with the more unsavory denizens of Las Vegas life.

"Well, it's not an outreach center exactly." Elaine took a quick sip from her cup. "Its primary purpose is to give our social work students an opportunity to experience the system from both sides of the fence; we team them up with a qualified social worker and then with a client and they follow their cases through from beginning to end. Most of our clients do happen to be prostitutes but we also deal with the homeless, the disabled, anyone that needs help finding their way through the system really. I based the project on a similar set up we had in Minneapolis and, so far, they've both been very successful."

"Is that why you came to Vegas?" Nick asked.

"No, not at all." Elaine turned to him with a smile. "The main reason for moving was John's health; he'd always had chest problems, mainly bronchitis but then, five years ago, he was diagnosed with emphysema and that's when we decided it was time to leave Minnesota behind and head for a warmer climate. John had kept track of Gil's progress over the years and knew he was down here and when I discovered there was an opening in the UNLV Social Work department it seemed like it was meant to be so, we packed everything up and hit the road."

Falling silent, Elaine stared into her cup for a second before suddenly getting to her feet. "Would anyone else like some more coffee?" She spoke quickly, desperate for an excuse to leave the table. "It'll have to be instant, I'm afraid but it's better than nothing."

She looked hopefully around the group and, realizing his old friend needed a moment alone, Grissom decided to help her out.

"I'd love one, Elaine; thank you." Holding out his cup, he noticed the slight shake in her hand as she took it from him and kept a close eye on her as she headed for the glass doors.

Leaning in as he turned back to the table, Catherine voiced the question they were all curious about. "What happened to John?"

"They bought a house in Summerlin, Elaine started work and John was settling into retirement. His health had improved, the emphysema was responding to treatment and he said he was feeling better than he had in years." Grissom sighed heavily. "I didn't really have a lot of free time round about then; the lab was busier than usual but the two of us did manage to take in a couple of 51's games out at Cashman Field and we got in a round of golf or two. Everything seemed fine." He shrugged. "Then he called me one Tuesday to see if I could make it to the Motor Show the following weekend, we made arrangements, he hung up the phone and sometime between then and noon when Elaine arrived home, he had a massive heart attack; instead of going to the Motor Show, I ended up going to his funeral instead."

Nick winced in sympathy. "How long had they been here?"

"Four months, almost five." He nodded towards the house and frowned. "I expected her to go back to Minneapolis, she still has a couple of sisters up there, but she was determined to stick it out here." Surprised by the feelings of grief, and guilt, that the subject could still rouse, Grissom dropped his gaze to stare at the table. "And I'm sure I made things worse by leaving her alone the way I did."

"You know, everyone's guilty of doing that at some time or other." Aware of the others around them, Sara had to fight the impulse to reach out to comfort him. "You take a step back to allow the person left behind to come to terms with their loss but then, after a while, it becomes harder and harder to take that step forward again."

"And Elaine understands that, Gil." Catherine added, anxious to put his mind at rest. "She certainly doesn't blame you for anything; she's just grateful to have you back in her life again."

"Well, at least I can make up for it now." With a slightly sheepish smile, Grissom looked up again. "If nothing else, I owe it to John to make sure she's all right."

Curious, Greg shuffled through the photos on the table again. He'd seen them earlier when they'd first been handed round the table, his attention then on the younger version of his supervisor but now he was hoping for a closer look at the man in question. Choosing one he'd only glanced at before, he pulled it over and studied it carefully.

Taken inside what was clearly a workshop, the shot was a candid one, neither subject apparently aware of the camera's presence. Dressed in dark blue overalls, John Grogan was bent over; both arms covered in grease and oil as he worked on the engine of a white sedan. Beside him, spanner in one hand and what appeared to be an oil pump in the other, stood an equally oil smeared Grissom but it was the red convertible parked behind them in the next bay that really caught Greg's attention.

"Is that a Bel Air?" Turning the image around, he held it up for Grissom to see.

"Yeah." Surprised by the unexpected question, Grissom looked at him curiously. "I didn't know you were into classic cars, Greg?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say I was into them but I do like them." He shrugged self-consciously. "The cars they build now all look the same but back then every different make had its own style and character. I know the Bel Air because Papa Olaf had an old '57; I remember riding round in it when I was a kid."

"That one was John's pride and joy." Holding his hand out, Grissom waited for the photo to be passed over, a smile breaking out as he studied the long ago scene. "A 1955 Chevy Bel Air; he found it in pieces in a barn outside of Rochester and we put her together again from scratch."

"I always told that man he should have been a mechanic, he was never happier than when he was working on a car engine." Pushing the glass door shut with her hip, Elaine carefully carried two coffee cups over to the table, placing one in front of Grissom before retaking her seat. There was no sign of her earlier distress and with a knowing grin; she cocked her head towards her old friend. "And, of course, he had his apprentice there to help him out as well; I don't know how many hours the two of them spent playing around in that freezing cold workshop."

Turning back to his boss, Greg's eyes widened in surprise. "You did other ones as well?"

"My first Mercedes was the one that started it all." Shuffling through the rest of the photos, Grissom found a picture of the smart silver coupe and handed it over. "A 450SLC; she was only six years old when I got her but she needed some serious work and John helped me get her back on the road." He smiled at the memory. "After that we rebuilt the Bel Air and then John decided he wanted to try his hand at a true classic but I ended up heading back to :A before we were even half way through." He turned to Elaine. "What happened to her?"

"He spent a bit of time with her after you left but his heart really wasn't in it anymore." She shrugged. "It was a pity really; he loved all the time the two of you spent together with those cars."

"So did I." Grissom admitted. "In fact, I think that was- " He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone and, pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen before pushing to his feet. "It's Ecklie again; I'm going to have to take it."

The French doors had barely closed behind him before Catherine settled her elbows on the table and addressed their hostess with a mischievous grin.

"Now that you've filled us in on the boring details of Grissom's life in Minnesota how about getting to the good stuff? You know, the secret wife, the drug-fuelled orgies; all the bits we _really _want to hear about."

"I hate to disappoint you, Catherine but if anything like that went on I certainly never heard about it." Sitting back in her chair, Elaine returned the smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. "About the only other things I can tell you are that he lived in a studio apartment over in St. Paul and whatever free time he had was spent either working on those cars or out on the golf course." She quickly corrected herself. "And at the Metrodome of course; John was a huge Twins fan and, whenever the team was playing at home, he'd get off shift, grab Gil and the two of them would park themselves in the stands for hours." She turned at the sound of the door opening again. "That was quick."

"Conrad was just passing on a message." Shoving his phone back into one pocket, Grissom pulled his car keys from the other. "The sheriff's called a meeting for later this afternoon so, if I'm going to get any sleep at all today, I'm going to have to head home now."

Catherine frowned. "You think Burdick's going to bring the Feds in?"

"That would be my guess." Picking up his cup, Grissom took a quick swig and replaced it on the table before laying a hand on Elaine's shoulder. "You want to show me where these boxes are you want me to pick up?"

"You know, I'd almost forgotten about that." Pushing her chair back, Elaine got to her feet. "They're out in the garage; come on, I'll show you."

"Maybe we should all be making tracks?" Catherine suggested, glancing round at the others for confirmation. "We've all had a long night anyway and I'm sure Elaine has other things she'd like to get on with today."

"Fine by me." Standing up, Warrick stretched and smothered a yawn. "If we sit here much longer I'll probably fall asleep anyway." He turned to address Nick and Greg. "Come on, you two, we'll give Griss a hand with his things before we go."

* * *

Minutes later, gathered in the driveway, Nick was about to reach for the garage door handle when Elaine called him back.

"It's okay, Nick; I'll get it with the remote from here."

Walking over to her Sentra, she opened the driver's door and hit the remote button for the door then, reaching further in, she picked up the small envelope she'd placed in the center console before any of her guests arrived. Stepping back from the car, she held it out to Grissom with a grin. "You're going to need this too."

He took it from her with a curious smile before opening the flap and sliding the contents out onto the palm of his hand.

He recognized the key ring immediately, the round fob decorated on one side with the Ford logo and on the other with the familiar galloping horse. Grissom ran his finger over the two keys that hung from the ring before looking up at Elaine again.

He frowned in confusion. "Why are you giving me this?"

Elaine cocked her head at the now open garage. "See for yourself."

He knew what it was before he even turned his head, both the look on Elaine's face and Greg's excited exclamation giving the game away but it still managed to take his breath away when he saw it.

"That's the car you were working on in the photo, isn't it?" Looking from the garage to his boss and back again, Greg couldn't hide the amazement in his voice. "What year is it?"

"She's a '69." Grissom answered automatically, still stunned by the sight of the vehicle in front of him. "A Mustang 302." He blinked rapidly as the realization struck him. "God Elaine, this is what you want me to pick up?"

"Yes, although there are some boxes of yours in there too." She couldn't help but smile at the incredulous look on his face. "John had her in storage over on Nellis Boulevard when we were living in Summerlin but here I had a double garage and only one car so I thought it made sense to have her brought over and save the storage fees." She gestured at the cartons and crates that lined one side of the garage. "Unfortunately, I'd forgotten just how much stuff came with her so I think it's time she moved on again."

Grissom barely heard her, his attention rivetted on the open doorway then, as if in a trance, he stepped forward slowly and placed his hand almost reverently on the big car's hood.

Sleek and low-slung, the Mustang sat squarely in the center of the garage. She canted slightly to one side, her suspension clearly shot on the left and, with her windscreen gone and headlights and grill missing, she appeared to have an almost menacing stare but as far as he was concerned nothing could detract from the style and beauty of the old car.

The original Wimbledon White paintwork was gone, replaced by dull grey layers of primer and undercoat and he vividly remembered all the hours he and John had spent patiently eradicating the rust that had been slowly eating her away. Now, running his hand lovingly over the hood, Grissom was pleased to see that all that work hadn't been in vain.

Sliding his hand up and over the sloped roof, he carefully adjusted the rear spoiler, surprised to see that no damage had been done to it in its travels and walking completely around the back of the car, slowly made his way back up the other side.

He came to a halt back where he'd started and, unhooking both metal latches, popped the hood and held it up one handed as he stared, for the first time in twenty years, at the big V8 engine underneath.

"My neighbor's son is a mechanic and I asked him to take a look at it for you." Entering the cool of the garage, Elaine stood just behind him. "He managed to get her going again thanks to a new battery and God knows what else but he did say the starter motor on its last legs."

"It always was." Dropping the hood back down, Grissom secured the latches and turned to face her. "It was one of the things we hadn't gotten around to yet." Leaning back against the car, he shook his head. "I can't take her, Elaine, she was John's car; not mine"

"You spent just as much time, if not more, working on her then he did." Elaine shook her head in amazement at his stubbornness. "I know exactly how much money was spent on her back in Minneapolis, Gil and I also know that John wasn't the only one forking it out. She may have started out as the project _he_ wanted to do but she soon became both of yours so I think it's only fair that you have her now. You can do what you like with her: finish her off, sell her as is or strip her down and offer her for parts; the decision's yours." She smiled. "I just want my garage back."

Turning back to look at the Mustang again, Grissom frowned. "I have nowhere to keep her though; the condo only has two assigned parking spaces and we're using both of them."

With his back to the others, he didn't see the raised eyebrows his comment caused.

"You could always rent someplace." Stepping into the garage, Greg edged his way around the car for a closer look, Warrick and Nick following closely behind him. "I bet you could find somewhere near the lab."

"There are a lot of old workshops and sheds out along Bonanza Road, Griss." Warrick pointed out. "You could probably rent something there."

"That's not too far, Gil." Standing in the doorway, Catherine watched the three younger men swarming over the old car. "And, it's about halfway between your new place and the lab; it'd be pretty convenient for you."

"I'm not sure." Rubbing his hand over his mouth, Grissom stepped back outside and stared at the Mustang as he weighed up the pros and cons. He could definitely do it, in fact, he decided, he'd love to do it but it was a big project to take on especially now with the Ripper case and he really wasn't sure that he could justify the time or expense that would have to be invested in bringing the old car back to life. Looking up, his eyes locked with Sara's and he silently implored her for help but her bemused smile and single raised eyebrow got him no closer to a decision.

"Well, Gil?" Coming to stand beside him, Elaine slipped her arm through his. "What's it going to be; do I get my garage back or not?"

"I don't know, Elaine." Drawing in a deep breath, Grissom let it out slowly. "Give me a couple of days to think it over, okay? What ever way I decide to go I'll make sure she's out of here by Friday."

"Fair enough." With a smile, she gave his arm a squeeze. "How about the rest of your things though? You are taking them today, aren't you?"

"Of course." He assured her. "And I'll ge rid of all the others when I move the car."

"Well. I'll look forward to finally having my space back." Pulling her arm free, Elaine moved back towards the garage. "You go and open your trunk and I'll show the boys which ones to bring down."

Walking down the driveway to the Mercedes, Catherine and Sara close on his heel; Grissom popped the trunk and looked back, unable to resist one last glance at the Mustang. Turning round again, he caught sight of the smug grin on Catherine's face.

"You knew about this, didn't you?"

"Elaine told me all about it at the diner yesterday." Stepping out of the way of the three heavily-laden men, Catherine offered him a casual shrug. "Who knows, if you'd bothered turning up like you were supposed to, she might have told you then too."

"You could have tipped me off, Catherine."

"And miss the look on your face when that door opened?" She shook her head, "No way."

Narrowing his eyes, he turned to Sara. "Don't tell me you were in on it too."

"I didn't know anything about it, I swear." She held both hands up, defending her innocence. "It _was_ pretty funny though; I don't think I've ever seen you look so surprised."

After ensuring that the three boxes were securely stowed, Warrick slammed the trunk lid closed. "There you are, all packed and ready to go."

"Okay, I'd better head off." Grissom glanced at watch. "There's someone I have to pick up on the way home and I don't want to be late.

"That's right, Gil; don't keep the lady waiting." Catherine couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. "It's good to see that she has you trained already."

Rolling his eyes, he ignored her remark, turning instead to face Elaine. "Thank you for breakfast and-" He gestured towards the garage. "for that too; I'll give you a call when I decide what I'm doing."

After a quick kiss on the cheek, he opened the Mercedes door then turned to address Catherine. "You know, this fixation you have with my private life is really starting to worry me."

"Hey, you're the one that just told everyone that you have _two_ parking spaces at home and _both_ of them are occupied." She gave him an almost ingenuous shrug. "You can't blame me for being curious."

"No, unfortunately I can't." Climbing into the driver's seat, he closed the door and wound down the window. "That doesn't mean I have to like it though." Starting the engine, he slipped the transmission into drive but kept his foot firmly on the brake. "What I really don't understand though is why you're only interested in me."

Keeping an eye on the rearview mirror for other traffic, he timed his last comment perfectly, uttering the line in the final moment before he pulled away.

"After all, Sara's been living with Hank for months now and I've never heard anyone say a word about that."

* * *

After parking in his customary space in the complex's basement car park, Grissom wound down the rear windows even further than they already were, ensuring the excited dog, currently occupying the rear seat, would be able to keep an eye on him as he emptied the trunk of its contents.

Each apartment had its own secured lockup and after opening the door to theirs, he returned to the car to retrieve the three boxes. He'd just hefted the first one when he heard the unmistakable sound of the automatic door opening and watched as Sara's Prius slid into the spot beside his. She was out of the car in seconds.

"That was not nice!" The grin on her face belied the censuring tone and Grissom answered it with a smirk of his own.

"Hey, all's fair in love and war remember and, with some luck, it got Catherine off my back for a while." Grissom carried the box over and dumped it just inside the door. "What did you tell them?"

"I said that Hank has changed completely and that I was confident that the new and improved model wouldn't even dream of cheating on me." Sara chuckled. "Of course, Nick and Warrick think I'm delusional and Catherine just gave me a disgusted glare before she drove off but they'll see the funny side… eventually." She gestured towards the trunk. "You want a hand?"

"No, this'll only take a minute." Returning to the trunk, he grabbed the second box and glanced at the back seat of the Mercedes. "How about getting his majesty out of there before he makes a mess of my upholstery?"

The big dog squirmed with excitement as Sara approached.

"Hey, baby boy." Deftly avoiding the Boxer's lolling tongue, Sara grabbed hold of the leash and held the door wide for Hank to get out. "You glad to be home?" She watched on in amusement as he cocked his leg and let rip against the car's front tire.

"There's your answer." Rolling his eyes, Grissom lifted the last of the large boxes. "God, these things are heavy." Dumping it down with the others, he closed the door and made sure it was secure. "You do know those books are going to stink, right? They've been sealed up in those boxes for almost twenty years now; it can't have done them any good."

"We can take them to the dump if we have to but it won't hurt to check them out first." Leaning against her own vehicle, Sara fondled one of Hank's ears as she watched Grissom shut the trunk and lock the car doors. When that was done, the both headed for the elevator.

"So, what do you think of Elaine?"

"I like her, she seems nice. She's very loyal to you though, Greg and Catherine were both fishing around trying to get some gossip before you arrived but she never took the bait."

"She and John were both good friends." Holding the door open, Grissom waited until both she and Hank were safely inside before stepping in to join them. "By the way, she wants to meet you."

"That's funny." Sara looked up with a grin. "I thought she just did."

"That was as a member of my team, not as my partner." Slipping one arm around her waist, he tugged her closer. "I thought I'd swing us both a night off and we could take her out to dinner somewhere; how does that sound?"

"It sounds fine; I'll leave it all up to you." She paused a second before asking her next question. "So, what are you going to do with the Mustang?

"At the moment I have no idea." Grissom frowned. "Part of me is tempted to actually finish it off, it's what we always planned to do and John would have loved to see that car back on the road but it's still a big job and I'm just not sure that I'd be able to find the time to do it properly plus there's the space problem to overcome." He shrugged. "Maybe I should just sell her instead."

"I think you should finish it." As he opened his mouth, Sara raised a finger to silence him. "Hear me out – you don't relax enough, you need something to help you switch off and I think finishing that car might be just the thing plus I'm pretty sure Greg would love to help you out." Noticing Grissom's somewhat dubious look, she hurried to explain herself. "You know how quiet he's been since that Demetrius James business, the only thing he seems to be interested in lately is that book he's writing but he was back in the garage drooling over that car almost as soon as you left." Both shoulders came up in a slight shrug. "Maybe it'd be good for both of you."

"And where would we do it?" As the elevator door opened, Grissom allowed her to precede him into the corridor. "Like I said before we don't have the room here, restoring a car is expensive enough without having to hire a workshop as well."

"I was thinking about that on the way home and I think I may have a solution."

Turning the corner to their apartment, Hank surged forward and they both looked up to see the cause of the usually obedient dog's excitement.

Grissom groaned. "Oh great, just what I need."

"You're going to be nice remember? You promised me." Giving in at the tug of war, Sara let the big dog pull her the rest of the way to the front door.

Hey, Hank." Pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on, Jim Brass bent down to greet the excited animal. "How you been, buddy?"

"Morning, Jim." Sara smiled in welcome as she took up the slack in the leash. "Have you been waiting long?

"No, not really." Wearily pushing himself upright, Brass checked his watch. "About an hour or so, I guess."

"You should have given one of us a call." Pulling his keys from his pocket, Grissom quickly had the front door open "Might have saved yourself the wait."

"That's okay, I didn't mind." Trailing behind Sara and the dog, Jim stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to address Grissom. "You get the sheriff's summons for this afternoon?"

"Yeah, four o'clock in Conrad's office." Grissom stifled a yawn. "You'd think, considering half the participants work nightshift, the man could call the meeting at a reasonable time." He walked passed his guest and headed for the kitchen. Stepping around Sara as she filled the Boxer's dish with dry food, Grissom reached for the kettle.

"What can I get you, Jim? Coffee? Tea?"

"Actually..." Suddenly nervous, Jim shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "What I need is a favor."

It was the tone more than anything that caused Grissom to pause in his task. Looking up, he took in Jim's obvious unease and was instantly on guard. "What kind of favor?"

"A big one." Locking eyes with his best friend, Jim drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before continuing. "I want you to drop the paternity appeal and apply for custody of Caleb instead."

TBC

**A/N: **And, once again, I get to apologize :)

I'm sorry, one ridiculously busy week turned into two and before I knew it I was way behind schedule again. The good news is that the main cause of my distraction lately should be over and done with sometime next week so I'm hoping that means I'll be able to buckle down and get this thing back on track. The fact that we'll soon be coming to the chapters I've been dying to write for months now should help speed things along too. Thanks for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 12**

"You know what?" Placing the kettle back down on the countertop, Grissom's expression remained completely impassive as he stared at the man standing just a few feet away. "I think I'm going to pretend that what I thought I just heard was not what actually came out of your mouth."

"You can pretend all you like, Gil." Brass shrugged. "But that _was_ what I said and it _is_ what I'm here to discuss."

Pouring the last of the dry dog food into the drooling Boxer's dish, Sara placed it on the floor beside the refrigerator before turning to address their visitor.

"Jim, I really don't think this is the time to-"

He quickly cut her off. "Caleb is my grandchild, Sara; I have to make sure that he's safe and protected."

"By having _me_ apply for custody?" Grissom glared incredulously. "Your grandchild or not, Jim; I am not raising that kid."

"I really don't think it would come to that though." Pulling out a stool, Brass took a seat as he hurriedly laid out his plan. "Ellie wants that baby, I'm sure of that; if she didn't, she never would have had him in the first place. She'll realize that the court would favor you over her if it came down to a custody dispute so she'll come forward, with Caleb, just to prove you're _not_ his father."

"Then, by all means, threaten her with it if you like but I'm not dropping the appeal."

"That won't work." Brass shook his head. "If I can't find her, I can't threaten her. It has to be official, Gil; there's no other way."

"Yes, there is; all I have to do is wait six weeks at the most and I'm going to be cleared anyway." Leaning back against the counter, both arms crossed against his chest, Grissom regarded the man opposite. "It's not going to make any difference to me whether she shows up or not; legally, I'll be off the hook."

Jim's eyes darkened as he took in his friend's self-righteous stance. "I need to do something to find that baby, Gil."

"I thought that's what you were already doing." Grissom's smile turned cold. "How's Sofia by the way? I haven't seen her for a while but then again, from what I hear, she's been pretty busy with other things."

"She's simply been asking questions on my behalf, that's all." Seemingly unsurprised by Grissom's knowledge of Sofia's activities, Jim shrugged dismissively. "Ellie only took restraining orders on the two of us, not everyone."

"And you seriously think the Family Court is going to see it that way?" With a disbelieving shake of his head, Grissom rounded the counter and headed for the stairs. "I think it's time you left."

"Gil, please?" Jim implored. "At least hear me out."

Picking up on the tension in the air, Hank took a few steps back from his food bowl and stared, first at his owner and then at their visitor before moving to sit by Sara's side. His characteristic Boxer frown deepened even further as he watched Grissom mount the stairs and stand with his hand on the door knob as he glared down at Brass.

"I've heard more than enough; now, are you going or not?"

Placing a reassuring hand on the big dog's head, Sara attempted to intervene again. "Grissom-"

"No Sara, I've had it." Looking down at her, he sighed wearily in frustration. "What Jim doesn't seem to realize is that if I apply for custody then I'm legally declaring myself that child's father; I'll be telling the world that I slept with his daughter, got her pregnant then abandoned her and the baby; that's really going to enhance my reputation, isn't it?" His attention switched to Jim. "And, don't forget, the minute I drop the appeal, that support order kicks in; your daughter would effectively own me for the next eighteen years – at least."

"If that happened I'd pay." Pushing himself to his feet, Jim hurried to reassure him. "You would never be out of pocket, Gil; I promise."

"Yeah, I can really see that working." Grissom commented sarcastically. "No way, Jim; not now, not ever."

"Could you please try and see this from my point of view?" Unwilling to accept the inevitable, Jim tried one more time. "I have a six month old grandson out there somewhere being exposed to God knows what because of the way his mother chooses to live her life. I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure his safety whether that means bankrolling Ellie through you or asking you..." Taking a deep breath, he cast a pleading glance in Sara's direction. "Both of you, to consider the custody option."

"Don't bring Sara into this." Grissom warned. "It's not fair to put her on the spot like that particularly since what you want is not going to happen."

"God Almighty, Gil." As disappointment flooded through him, Jim's patience snapped. "People raise kids that aren't their own everyday of the week; it's not that hard, believe me, I've been doing it since 1982."

"Yeah, and look how well that's turned out." Shocked by what he'd just said, Grissom wiped an exhausted hand over his face as he descended the stairs. "You know what? I don't want to do this anymore; I'm going to have a shower, go to bed and, when I get up, I'm going to pretend that this all of this lunacy never happened."

"Gil-"

"No, Jim; if I stand here much longer I'm going to end up saying something that we're all going to regret so, for the sake of our friendship, I'm going now."

Reaching out to grab Hank's collar as he tried to follow his master out of the room, Sara watched Grissom's retreating back until he disappeared into the bedroom. With an almost embarrassed glance back at Jim, she shrugged helplessly.

"I guess that didn't go quite the way you planned."

"It was worth a shot." Taking his seat on the stool again, Jim met her level gaze. "I don't suppose you could speak to him for me? Try to get him to understand how important this is to me."

"It wouldn't do any good." Sara smiled softly, trying to soften her refusal. "You know what he thinks about this whole thing, Jim; he just wants it over and done with."

"But what if you wanted to do it?" Seeing another possible solution to his problem, Jim's eyebrows rose in question. "He loves you, Sara; he'd go along with it if he believed it was something you wanted."

"Perhaps." Sara reluctantly conceded. "But it's _not_ what I want and the fact that _I_ love _him_ means that I wouldn't put him in that position in the first place. I waited a long time to get what I have now and I won't risk it for anyone, Jim; not even you."

"It was asking a lot, I know that, but I had to try." Jim shoulders slumped as he finally admitted defeat. "For Caleb's sake if nothing else." He sighed heavily before looking across at her again. "No harm done?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned and, although I can't really speak for Gil, he's not usually one to hold a grudge." Stepping closer to the counter, she placed her hand lightly over his. "You'll find your grandson, Jim, I'm sure of that; one way or another, you'll find him and make sure he's all right."

* * *

He was in bed by the time she entered their room.

Lying on his back, hands linked behind his head, Grissom silently followed Sara's movements as she got undressed before rolling onto his side to face her as she climbed beneath the covers.

"I'm sorry I walked out on you." Reaching across, he entwined his fingers with hers. "It wasn't really fair to leave you with him like that."

"It's probably for the best that you did." She shrugged one shoulder. "It'd be a shame to ruin your friendship after all this time."

With his gaze fixed on their joined hands, Grissom silently nodded his agreement.

Watching him carefully, Sara frowned. "Do we need to discuss this?"

"We already have discussed it, remember: no kids; not ours, not anyone's." Lifting his head, his eyes locked with hers "I don't know what Jim though he was doing coming round here anyway; he must have known I wouldn't go along with it."

"He's desperate." Sara offered simply.

"I know that and I'm sorry for the man but he's got to realize that there's nothing I can do." Slipping his hand free, Grissom rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Let's face it, if Ellie hadn't decided to jerk us all about like this, Jim wouldn't even know about Caleb. She's slapped him in the face with her lifestyle and her drug use and, given the opportunity, she'll do the same with that kid. He'll just be another weapon she can use against her father."

"Then you understand why he wants to find him."

"Oh, I can understand it alright and, believe me, if Caleb _were_ my son the first thing I would do was make sure that I had custody rather than his mother but I'm not his father and I'm not responsible for him and Jim's just going to have to come to terms with that fact."

"Don't worry; I think he got the message." Only just stifling a yawn, Sara moved into his side, her head automatically settling into the hollow of his shoulder. "How about a change of subject?" She suggested. "Something a little more relaxing than Jim Brass and his family problems."

Her yawn was contagious and Grissom had a struggle to fight off one of his own. "Such as?"

"Such as where I think you could work on that Mustang of yours."

* * *

Settling herself at the break room table, Catherine glanced up at the wall clock and smiled; with a couple of hours to go before shift, she'd have plenty of time to enjoy her first coffee of the night in peace before everyone else began filing in. The lab was quiet, the members of Swing either out on cases or busy elsewhere in the building and she eased back in her chair, savoring the almost unfamiliar tranquility of the place.

Sensing movement out in the hallway, she looked up in time to catch the somewhat unexpected sight of Gil Grissom, overall-clad and covered in dirt and grime, as he headed towards her. Ignoring her presence, he walked around the table to the fridge and, pulling it open, helped himself to a chilled bottle of water. Catherine watched as he drained half the contents before pulling out a chair and joining her.

"What in God's name have you been up to?"

"Spring cleaning." Running his hand through his hair, Grissom cringed slightly at the sweaty, grimy feel and quickly wiped his hand on his pant's leg. "Although, technically this is Fall, isn't it?" Hiking up his sleeve, he checked his watch and frowned across at her. "Why are you here so early?"

"I thought you might like some help bringing Wilson up to speed on the case." Raking her eyes over his stained clothing, she gave a shudder of disgust. "Although, if you're now going to tell me that you'd rather I grab a mop and give you a hand. I think I'll be going home again."

"Don't worry, Cath; the job's all done." He smiled at the look of relief on her face. "I've been at it for hours now so the only thing I've got left to do is grab a shower and find some clean clothes."

"You stuck around after the sheriff's meeting?" Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you would have gone home again."

"I didn't see much point." Raising the bottle to his lips, he took another mouthful. "By the time I got home and relaxed again it would have been time to head back in anyway so I decided to get stuck in here; I quite enjoyed myself actually."

"You know, for someone who was forced to spend time in a small room with both Sheriff Burdick _and_ Conrad Ecklie you're in a surprisingly good mood tonight." Narrowing her eyes, she couldn't miss the small smirk of satisfaction on her friend's face. "I'm going to guess that all this housekeeping you've been doing has something to do with Elaine's little surprise this morning."

"It does" Smile widening, Grissom screwing the cap back on the now-empty bottle. "But I can't tell you anything else at the moment; there's someone else I have to talk to first and a lot of things hinge on what he has to say."

"Suit yourself." Catherine huffed, feigning indignation. Reaching for her cup, she watched as he casually lobbed the bottle into the nearest waste bin and smiled at his somewhat out of character action. When Elaine had first mentioned the Mustang's existence, she'd secretly wondered if it would be too much for Grissom to take on, particularly now with both the Ripper case _and _Ellie Brass weighing him down but seeing him now, happy, relaxed and clearly excited by the prospect of working on the car, all her misgivings faded away.

"So..." Taking a sip from her cup, she relaxed back against the chair. "How'd the meeting go anyway? Is the sheriff bringing in the Feds to help us or not?"

"We're putting in a formal request to the FBI field office first thing tomorrow morning." Idly rubbing at a greasy mark on the sleeve of his overalls, Grissom filled her in. "They'll go over what we've got so far, run it by headquarters and then decided whether or not to grace us with their presence. Lucky for me, I get to steer clear of that particular song and dance; it'll all be down to the sheriff and the lead detective." He chuckled happily. "I don't think Vega's really looking forward to it."

"Vega?" Catherine frowned. "What about Brass? He's the lead investigator."

"Not any more." Grissom told her. "The story I got is that he called in this afternoon and requested personal leave; apparently, he didn't give them much choice in the matter." He shrugged. "Needless to say, Burdick is _not_ a happy camper."

Staring across the table, Catherine eyed her colleague carefully; Jim's actions were surprising enough but Grissom's apparent ambivalence to the situation was even more of a revelation. "What brought that on?"

"You don't want to know." Grissom rolled his eyes at the question before pushing himself to his feet. "Okay, I'm going to go get cleaned up, the others should be in soon so if you see Greg before I do tell him that I need to have a word with him, all right? There's something that I want- "

He was cut off by the beep of Catherine's cell phone and, flipping it open, she scanned the incoming message.

"Uh, sorry, Gil." Snapping the phone closed again, Catherine quickly got to her feet. "I'm going to have to head out for a while."

He shot her a concerned glance. "Problem with Lindsey?"

"Oh, you know what teenage girls are like; everything's a drama." Lifting her cup, she carried it over to the sink. "I'm sure it'll turn out to be nothing but I'd better swing by and check anyway. I'll try not to be late back for shift but-"

"Don't worry about it, Cath." Pushing his chair in, Grissom watched as she headed for the door. "Do what you've got to do; I'm pretty sure the rest of us we can keep things ticking over until you get back."

"No doubt you can." Catherine grinned at the unexpected sarcasm and decided she was right: that Mustang _was _going to be good for him. "But, just in case, I'll try to make it back as soon as I can."

* * *

Checking the directions on her cell phone again, Catherine turned her car into Janis Lane and pulled into the first empty parking spot she came to; as familiar as she was with this part of Vegas, she couldn't remember ever being down this particular street before. Small factories and workshops lined both sides of the road and at first glance, she wondered if the information in the message had been wrong; then, after a second, closer examination of her surroundings, she found what she was looking for tucked away between a print shop and a dry cleaners.

"Found you at last." The small bar was almost empty and she'd seen him the moment she'd stepped through the door; now, sliding into the booth opposite Jim Brass, Catherine smiled warmly. "You know, if you wanted to buy me a drink all you had to do is ask; there's really no need for all this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Sorry, Cath." He returned her smile with a weary one of his own. "Asking you to meet me here was a last minute thing; I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't." She examined him closely, taking in both the crumpled clothes _and _the bloodshot eyes. "How long have you been here?"

"Couple of hours." Lifting his whiskey glass, he drained what remained of the contents. "It's as good a place as any to kill some time."

She nodded towards the empty glass "And how many of those have you had?"

"Just two." Catching sight of the dubious look on her face, he chuckled. "I don't plans on getting drunk, Catherine, just looking for a little... relaxation."

"There are better places to find it, you know?" Crossing her arms on the tabletop, she leaned forward slightly. "Like home, for instance."

He ignored her suggestion and gestured towards the bar. "Can I get you anything? Soda? Wine?"

"No thanks, I'm fine." She watched for a minute as he fiddled with the corner of his coaster before deciding a prompt was in order. "So, I hear you're taking some leave."

"Yeah, I decided I needed some time off." Both shoulders rose in a shrug. "Let's face it, I'm so preoccupied at the moment I'm not going to be much help on the investigation anyway." He looked up. "I'm going to guess that they've handed the case over to Sam." At her nod of confirmation, he smiled. "That's good; it's in safe hands."

"I agree." Catherine concurred. "So… what am I doing here, Jim?"

"I'm hoping I'll be able to convince you to help me out with something." He paused slightly, memories of Grissom's earlier denial still fresh in his mind. "Not that I've had much luck when it comes to asking for favors lately so feel free to say no; everyone else does."

Remembering the conversation in the break room, Catherine frowned. "I take you've fallen out with Gil."

"Not fallen out exactly but I think it's fair to say that he's not exactly impressed with me at the moment." Jim managed a slight smile. "If he's in a bad mood tonight you can definitely blame me."

"Actually, his mood's pretty good; I just left him at the lab." Catherine was surprised to see a quick flicker of annoyance cross his face and decided to move the conversation on. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"I want you to keep an ear to the ground for me." Pushing the empty glass out of the way, Jim mimicked her posture. "At the moment, I don't have an idea where Ellie is; she'd not here in town, I'm sure of that but I need to locate her _and_ that baby." He took a breath. "Now, whether he likes it or not, Grissom's the only link to her that I have; if she does show herself, for whatever reason, he'll hear about it long before I will and, if that happens I need to know about it – quickly."

"He's not going to keep that from you, Jim; he knows how much it means to you."

"Considering the way things went this morning, I'm really not sure that I can rely on that just now." Jim shrugged. "That's why I need you."

"Look, I'm happy to help you out but I really don't think we need to take things this far." Catherine glanced at her watch. "How about coming back to the lab with me now? The two of you can sit down and sort out your difference; we'll get this settled once and for all."

Frustration growing, Jim shook his head. "That's not going to work, Cath; I don't have the time."

"What?" Confused, she frowned across the table at him. "Why?"

"Well for one thing, I'm booked on the 11pm flight out of Vegas."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 13**

Returning from her trip to the bar, Catherine carefully placed her coffee cup on one side of the table before sliding a club soda across to Jim.

"There you go." Slipping back into the booth, she smiled across at her companion. "This trip of yours is kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"Perhaps." He conceded. "But I had a feeling I was going to end up making it at some point; I guess it's just come around a bit quicker than I anticipated."

"You're heading to LA?"

"I was." Lifting the glass, Jim took a sip and winced at the insipid taste before putting it down again and pushing it away. "A friend of mine's been asking around for me out there but she assures me that Ellie hasn't been near the place in almost a year. Annie'll keep an eye out but..." He sighed. "I'm going to New Jersey instead."

"You think Ellie went home?"

"Probably not, she never liked the place; couldn't get out of Newark fast enough but she still has friends there and... associates that may know where she is." Catherine watched as his face hardened. "And not forgetting her mother; she _says_ she hasn't had any contact with Ellie but it wouldn't be the first time I've caught Nancy in a lie."

"Why would she lie about something as important as that though?" Catherine's brow furrowed in confusion. "I mean, Caleb's her grandchild too."

"Oh, she'd do it just to piss me off." "And, of course, to keep me out of her hair; I think the happiest day in Nancy's life was when I left New Jersey for Nevada." He looked across at her. "Do you think we could talk about something else for a while, Cath; I've about had it with this subject for today."

"Okay." Moving her coffee cup to one side, Catherine clasped her hands together and rested them on the table in front of her. "What happened between you and Gil?"

He rolled his eyes. "I _meant_ something different, Catherine; that's just coming at the same thing from a different angle."

"Hey, you're the one that asked me here to help you, remember." She commented dryly. "I think the least you can do is explain to me why it's necessary in the first place. Does he even know you're going?"

"No and at the moment I don't really think he'd care." With a resigned sigh, he filled her in on what had happened that morning. "I can't really blame him for the way he feels; he didn't ask for any of this but..." One shoulder rose in a shrug. "It would certainly make things a hell of a lot easier if he'd at least consider doing what I asked."

Seriously?" Catherine blinked in surprise. "You asked Grissom to take custody of your grandchild?"

"I know it sounds weird but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like the sensible option and I have absolutely no doubts the court would see it that way too. He has a good home, he's financially secure _and_ he's in a stable relationship." His eyes locked with hers but she showed no surprise at the sudden disclosure. "In fact, he's everything that Ellie isn't plus, as he's listed on the birth certificate as the father, he'd have just as much right as she does to bring that child up."

"That's a pretty big favor to ask, Jim." Catherine pointed out. "I can probably guess how he took it."

"Yeah, he stopped short of throwing me out but..." Narrowing his eyes, he stared across the table at his companion. "Do you have any idea where this anti-baby thing of his comes from?"

"I had no idea he had one; he was always great with Lindsey when she was little." She shrugged. "You can hardly blame him for not wanting to raise someone else's child though; after all, this whole thing came out of the blue, he's probably still reeling from Ellie's initial blow and then you go and drop this one on him too."

"No." Jim shook his head. "We're not just talking about Caleb here; apparently Gil doesn't want _any _kids and, from the sound of it, neither does S-" He caught himself just in time. "his partner."

"You can say it, you know, Jim." Catherine tried and failed to bite back a grin. "Her name's Sara."

Jim's eyebrows quirked up in surprise. "You know?"

"Of course I do." She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Jeez, all those years of wading through that repressed sexual tension and you seriously think I wasn't going to notice that it suddenly disappeared? There's only two ways that was ever going to conclude itself and since neither of them turned up dead, I kind of guessed they found another way to resolve their issues."

"So you've known along?"

"Maybe not all along." Catherine reluctantly conceded. "It was during that time that Ecklie split the team, remember? I wasn't spending quite as much time with either of them but I definitely had my suspicions." She chuckled. "I knew for sure when I gave Sara a ride one day and she left her jacket in the car; she'd mentioned that she had the weekend off so I thought I'd do the right thing and drop it off to her at home." She smiled at the memory. "I get there only to be told that she's moved so, I flash my badge, the new tenant gives me her forwarding address and… bingo."

"And they don't know that you're on to them?"

"Hell no." Grin widening, Catherine shook her head. "They don't have a clue and I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible. Sara's not much fun to play with but teasing Gil about his 'secret' is what makes going in to work each day fun." She winked playfully. "Well that and playing with dead bodies obviously."

"What about the others?" Jim asked. "Do they know?"

"Well, nobody's said anything but that doesn't necessarily mean much." Catherine bit her lip as she considered the question. "Nick's a definite no, I'm sure of that, and I don't think Warrick's twigged to it either but when it comes to Greg-"

"Oh, he knows." Jim confirmed. "We first suspected it a week or so ago and Sara found out for sure a day or so later."

"I had a feeling that he did." She smiled. "Grissom made a comment this morning about Sara living with Hank, obviously trying to put us off the scent, and Greg was the only one that _didn't _react."

"Actually, Sara does live with Hank or, more precisely, Hank lives with Sara." He chuckled at Catherine's obvious confusion. "They have a dog."

"And they named him Hank?"

"He was a rescue dog." Brass explained. "He came with the name and I don't think either Gil or Sara had the heart to try and change it." He shook his head in amusement. "Stupid mutt's devoted to the pair of them; they make quite a little family."

"Well, I guess that explains that." Catherine remained silent for a moment before breaking into a grin. "You know what? Good on them; it's about someone around here got a life."

"I thought Warrick already did that when he got married?"

"Hey, from what I hear it's not exactly the life Warrick was expecting."

Brass leaned forward with a frown. "Trouble already?"

"That's what the grapevine says." Lifting her cup, Catherine sipped the lukewarm liquid then groaned aloud as a sudden thought struck her. "Oh God, do you realize how depressing that is?"

Retrieving his glass, Jim took another mouthful. "What's that?"

"Of all of us, it's the two biggest geeks that actually have a sex life."

For the first time in days, Jim let forth with a genuine laugh. "Well, you know Cath, maybe you should take a leaf out of their book and look around the lab yourself; I know for a fact that David Hodges is available."

"Oh no; no way!" Feigning horror, Catherine allowed an exaggerated shiver to run through her. "I can't tell you how hard up I'd have to be to be before I even considered that particular option." She grinned across the table before suddenly sobering. **"**Can I ask you a question?"

Surprised, Brass nodded his consent. "Of course."

"Why don't you apply for custody yourself?"

"I've considered it." Dropping his head, Jim inhaled deeply and let it out before continuing. "And, if it turns out to be the only viable way out of this, I'll probably do it but look at me, Cath, look at who I am."

Glancing up, he shook his head at the look of confusion on her face.

"I'm a 56 year old workaholic who doesn't see the inside of his house for days at a time. I drink too much and, even though I claim to have given up smoking if you go and check my glove box you'll find an open pack just waiting for the moments when I need that crutch and, believe me, those moments come around more often than you'd think." There was no mistaking the mixture of guilt and self-loathing that tinged his words. "Most people evolve over the years, Catherine but I never did; I'm exactly the same person that I was all those years ago back in Newark, the person who stood by and watched as his family disintegrated around him." His voice steady, he met Catherine's gaze almost defiantly. "Ellie grew up with that person and look what she turned into; that is not the life I want for my grandson."

Momentarily unsure of what to say, Catherine reached across and laid her hand on top of his.

"You know, if I remember correctly, there were faults on both sides when it came to your marriage breakdown." Feeling him tense, she squeezed his hand. "You can't carry the can alone for that one, Jim and you can't just blame yourself for Ellie's behavior either."

"Maybe not." Brass managed a weak smile. "But you can't deny I was a contributing factor." He shrugged. "I have nothing to offer that baby at the moment, Catherine and, in the short term, I can't really see that changing."

"And Grissom does?" She shook her head in amazement. "I'm sorry, Jim but I'm not sure I can see either him _or_ Sara being 'perfect' parents and, from the sounds of things, that's what you're after for Caleb."

"Not perfect; just better than I was." He corrected. "In an ideal world, that little boy will grow up with a set of parents who love him _and_ love each other and with the two of them, I think he could have that."

"But it's not an ideal world, Jim." Catherine commented, not quite ready to concede the point. "Sometimes you've just got to make do and, believe me, there's worse places for that baby to be than with his grandpa."

"Look, I said I wasn't discounting it and I'm not but it's a last resort, Catherine; I'm not sure I want to run the risk of screwing up another kid." Reaching under the table, he pulled out an overnight bag. "I better start making tracks; so, will you let me now if Grissom gets any news while I'm away?"

"On one condition." Grabbing her purse, Catherine slid out of the booth. "I want you to promise that the minute you're back, you'll sit down with him and work this mess out." She ignored the somewhat petulant look he shot her. "You're both big boys, Jim and you don't need me to run interference for you; I'll do it this time but you need to get it sorted out. You share a friendship _and_ a working relationship with the man and they're both going to suffer if this goes on too long." Without waiting for an answer, she gestured towards the exit. "Now, let's get going; I'll give you a ride out to the airport."

"It's alright, Cath, I'll walk up to the corner and grab a cab." Getting to his feet, Jim shouldered his bag and followed her to the door. "You're going to be late enough back as it is."

"Don't worry about it; Grissom told me to take as much time as I needed and that's exactly what I'm going to do." She smiled her thanks as he held the door open for her. "So come on; you don't want to miss that plane."

TBC

**A/N: **Woohoo! One week between chapters people, I hope you all noticed that. Okay, so this one is slightly shorter than usual and half of it was already written and just needed a bit of polishing but it does mark the end of what is basically part one of the story so I'm still claiming it as a victory. And, who knows, maybe with a bit of encouragement via that review button, I might just be able to pull it off again. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 14**

Having spent over an hour driving up and down the industrial section of Frelinghuysen Avenue, Jim Brass had come to the conclusion that little had changed since he'd left Newark all those years ago: many of the buildings were still the same, traffic was still a nightmare and, more importantly as far as he was concerned, you were still guaranteed to find working girls out and about regardless of what time of day it was.

Choosing a redhead that seemed to be working alone, he eased his rental car up to the curb, lowered the passenger side window and gestured her over for a chat.

"Hey, sugar" Keeping a safe distance back from the vehicle, she quickly scanned the rest of the traffic before bending to smile in through the window. "You looking for a date?"

"Only with a girl named Ellie." Leaning forward, Jim pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

"That's cool." Deciding she was safe, the woman stepped off the sidewalk and leaned against the car. "For thirty bucks you can call me any name you like."

Jim allowed himself a chuckle. "No thanks, I think I'll pass." Pulling a photo from his wallet he held it out for the woman to see. "This is the girl I'm looking for: mid twenties, five seven or so; she tends to have a big mouth and a smartass attitude."

"You just described half the girls out here." Reaching in through the window, she took the picture from him and studied it before shaking her head. "Can't say I've seen her and I'm out here everyday; if she was around I'd have noticed her by now." Handing the photo back, she examined Jim carefully. "So, you a cop or what?"

"That obvious, huh?" With a smile, he slipped the picture back where it belonged. "I used to be with Newark PD but now I'm out in Vegas." Keeping the wallet in his hand, he decided to try a long shot. "How about Mary Reynolds? Is she still around?"

"Old Mary? Yeah, she's still here." Leaning casually on the door frame, she shot him a knowing wink. "You won't find her working in the mornings though; she's getting on now and she can hide a lot more at night than she can during the day. Last I heard she had a regular spot on Tonnelle Avenue just up from 51st Street; you know it?"

"I should." Jim told her as he opened up his wallet again. "I worked that area for over five years." Pulling out a ten and a twenty he held them out for her to take. "There you go, thanks for your help."

"Nah, don't worry about it." She waved him off. "I don't want your money."

"Go on, take it." Leaning over, he pressed it into her hand. "Easiest cash you'll make today."

"You got that right." Stepping back onto the sidewalk, she slipped the notes into her bra and shot him a final grin. "Good luck, honey; I hope you find your Ellie."

"Yeah." Putting the car in gear, Jim carefully edged the rental back into the line of traffic. "So do I."

* * *

Squinting against the glare of the mid-morning sun, Sara pulled open the heavy gate and smiled as the first half of the expected convoy arrived at the crime lab's rear entrance. She moved to the side, well out of the way, as Greg drove his RAV4 in through the opening, coming to a stop just a few feet from her position. Winding down his window, he leaned out with a grin.

"He's about fifteen minutes behind me, I came on ahead to open up but I guess you beat me to it."

"It's about time you got here." Looking past him into the back of the compact SUV, her eyebrows rose at the sight of all the boxes he had packed inside. "I've been waiting for over an hour now; what was the hold up?"

"First the tow truck was late and then we couldn't get the damn car started." Looking past Sara's shoulder, he nodded towards the building behind her. "I'll park in there for now; if you give me a hand we can probably have this thing unloaded before the Mustang arrives."

As he drove his car into the lab's old garage, Greg marveled, once again, at how perfect it was for their purpose.

Standing well clear of the main structure, the four-bay, freestanding building was roughly the size of a small warehouse. Sitting in a far corner of the lot, it had served its purpose well until the mid 80's expansion of the complex and the addition of the workshop-like garage that was in use today. In the intervening years, it had become more of a dumping ground; outdated technical equipment and old office furniture mixing awkwardly with the vast collection of tools and implements that could no longer be accommodated in the lab itself.

But now, thanks to Grissom's efforts, the chaos was gone. The equipment and furniture had all been moved into the last of the bays, ready for proper disposal and the tools, both manual and power, had been organized and assigned spaces either in the drawers of the long workbench or on the array of shelves that ran above it leaving them more than enough room to work in.

Sensing a presence beside him, he turned to Sara with a grin. "I still can't believe how much space there is in here."

"Beats a rented workshop, doesn't it?" Pleased that her suggestion of using the garage had turned out so well, Sara beamed back at him. "At least the two of you will be able to move around without falling over each other."

"Um, that's something I wanted to ask you about." Shuffling awkwardly, Greg cast an anxious glance at his colleague. "You didn't make Grissom ask me to help him out with this, did you?"

"I can't make him do anything, Greg." Sara tried hard to hide her amusement. "Grissom asked you to give him a hand because he knows he'll need help with this and he genuinely thought you might be interested in doing it." Turning back to the Toyota, she feigned an indifferent shrug. "But if you don't want to I can always-"

"No!" Just as she known it would be, his reaction was immediate. "I do want to do it; I just wanted to make sure that he hadn't been..." His expression turned sheepish. "_coerced _into asking me that's all."

"I assure you, there was no 'coercing' involved, okay?" Giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, she nodded towards his car. "Now, are we going to get these boxes unloaded or what?"

Five minutes later, with her final trip from the vehicle completed, Sara stepped back and surveyed the assortment of cartons that now lined the rear wall of the garage. "These are _all_ for the Mustang? There's got to be a dozen boxes there."

"Thirteen actually; I counted them back at Elaine's." Depositing his final load, Greg wiped his dusty hands down the legs of his jeans. "And there's a couple more in the Mercedes as well. According to Grissom, a lot of it will be the stuff they took off the car when they were just starting out but he's pretty sure there are spare parts in there too; apparently John Grogan had duplicates of a lot of the different components."

"Well, that should make things easier for you." With the back of her hand, Sara swiped at the thin sheet of perspiration that covered her forehead. "If you've got all the parts _plus_ some backups it's really nothing more than a giant jigsaw puzzle."

"I think there may be more to it than that." Greg took exception to the somewhat over-simplified analogy. "I just hope there's a another starter motor packed away in there; that's what gave us so much trouble at back at Elaine's."

"She warned you about that, remember?" Heading for the door again, Sara slapped her hand against the RAV4 as she passed. "Okay, let's move this thing out of here and then you can give a hand bringing in something I thought this place might need."

After parking his car parallel to the chain-link fence, Greg waited for the Prius to appear around the corner and stepped back out of the way as it eased to a stop beside him. He stooped down to read the writing on the side of the largish box that occupied the back seat as Sara got out and opened the rear doors. "A bar fridge?"

"I drove over to Sears and picked it up after you left for Elaine's." Kneeling on the back seat, she pushed the unwieldy box across towards Greg's door. "I thought it'd be easier than having to head into the lab every time one of you wanted a cold drink."

"Makes sense." Reaching in, Greg grabbed his end and lowered the box to the ground.

It was as she was climbing out that the wave of dizziness hit her. Grabbing hold of the door frame, Sara closed her eyes and tried to ride it out.

"You okay?" Feeling a hand on her arm she opened her eyes to find Greg's staring back at her with concern. "You want a seat? Some water?"

"No, I think I just stood up too fast." Embarrassed, she shook her head. "Between that and the headache I've got, I just felt a little faint, that's all." She took a deep breath of air and look down at the box. "Come on; let's get that thing hooked up."

Moments later, the fridge was out of its box and in place beneath the workbench, the hum of its compressors sounding unnaturally load in the empty garage.

"I'll let it cool down for a while then stock it up for you; I've got some bottled water and sodas in the trunk of the car." Leaning back against the bench, Sara ran her finger around the collar of her shirt, easing it away from her suddenly clammy skin. "It's airless in here, isn't it? Maybe I should have bought you a couple of fans as well."

"Actually, I don't think it's that bad; the doors will be open when we're in here anyway and if we open up the windows at the back, I think we'll get by." Greg cocked his head as the unmistakable sound of a truck engine approached and broke into a grin. "That's got to be it."

Rounding the side of the garage, Sara hot on his heels, Greg watched as the Mercedes swept in through the open gateway. Behind it, a large flat-bed tow truck, weighed down with the Mustang 302, carefully inched its way on to the lot. As Grissom swung his car to the right, Greg stepped forward and signaled the truck driver to turn left towards the waiting garage. Leaving him to it, Sara headed over towards the now parked Mercedes.

Dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, both of which were smeared with oil and grease, Grissom had the back door open and was carefully extracting the Ford's missing front grill as she came up beside him.

"Need a hand?"

"I think I got it." He glanced up with a smile. "But there's some stuff in the trunk you can grab if you like."

Pulling open the lid, Sara shook her head in amazement at the contents. "You know, I'm sure we had less boxes when we moved into the condo." Picking two at random, she balanced them in her arms. "No problems getting her here?"

"Well, we had to push her out of the garage and down the driveway when she wouldn't start but once we hit the street it was just a matter of winching her up onto the truck." Balancing the grill against the side of the car, Grissom grabbed one of the larger boxes before turning to watch Greg direct the tow truck into position for unloading. "I thought we might have had to strip the air dam off to get her up there but she made it with an inch or two to spare."

Walking slowly, they began to make their way towards the garage.

"I'm surprised Elaine didn't want to come with you." Shifting the boxes to one arm, Sara used her free hand to rub at her suddenly itchy nose. "I thought she might have wanted to check that the car was actually gone for good."

"She probably would have if she'd had the time but she's got classes this afternoon." Grissom glanced over at her with a grin. "She's did want me to tell you she's looking forward to dinner on Thursday night though."

Her eyebrow's rose in surprise. "You told her?"

"Actually, she'd already worked it out for herself; all I did was confirm it." With both arms occupied, he only just managed a shrug. "I suppose, logically, it had to be either you or Catherine and I think she's spent enough time with Cath lately to know it wasn't her."

Following her into the garage, Grissom held back as Sara placed her burden carefully on top of the other boxes. It was only as she turned towards him that he got the first good look at her face. "Why are you so flushed?"

"I don't know." She shrugged tiredly, wincing as the movement exacerbated the dull ache in her shoulders and arms. "I think I'm getting a cold or something."

Tossing his own box onto the work bench, Grissom was by her side in moments. "How long has this been going on?"

"I started to feel it about half way through shift." Sara admitted. "But it's been getting worse this past half hour or so."

Lifting his hand, he placed it across her forehead as he looked at her with concern. "Honey, you're burning up; I think this is more than a cold." Frowning at her, he shook his head. "PD had a lot of people out with the flu last week; looks like it might be our turn now. We've got to get you home."

"No." Shaking his hand off, she took a step back. "I'll be fine until you're finished here, you won't be much longer anyway so I'll just find a seat and-"

She shivered violently as a sudden chill ran through her and Grissom decided enough was enough. Pulling his car keys from his pocket, he wrenched four off the ring before striding towards the open door.

"Greg, can you handle the rest of this yourself? I need to take Sara home."

"Of course." Turning from the truck, Greg looked questioningly at his boss. "She dizzy again?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the flu." Holding the keys out, he dropped them into Greg's waiting hand. "Three of those I had cut for you last night: two for the car and one for the garage doors, the other one's the key to the Sara's car; when you've got the Mustang in, park the Prius next to it and then lock it all up and head home okay?"

Coming up beside him, Sara managed a weary smile for her younger colleague. "You know, there's really no need for this; I'll be fine." She swayed slightly and quickly grabbed onto the wall beside her.

"Sure you will." Stalking over to the pile of furniture, Grissom quickly found a serviceable chair and placed it behind her. "You're going to sit here and not move; give me a couple of minutes to get the rest of the boxes out of my car and then we're going home!"

Five minutes later, as promised, he drove out of the parking lot and turned east towards the interchange. With his attention divided between the traffic in front of him and the still-protesting woman by his side, Grissom never noticed the blue sedan that pulled away from the curb and followed him home.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 15**

"Sara?" Crouching down by the side of the bed, Grissom touched the sleeping woman's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. "Come on, honey, wake up for me."

"Go 'way." Twisting free of his touch, Sara sleepily turned over and snuggled deeper into her pillow. "Don't feel well."

"Yeah, I know you don't." Reaching out, he felt her brow, pleased to discover that her temperature had dropped then used his hand to nudge her arm again. "But I need you to wake up now, okay?"

Rolling onto her back, she opened one groggy, bloodshot eye and regarded him wearily. "How long have I been asleep?"

Grissom smiled at her slightly pissed off tone, taking it as reassuring sign that the semi-conscious, utterly compliant patient he'd been dealing with just a few hours ago was slowly being replaced by the strong, self-willed woman that he loved.

"About four hours." Pushing up to his feet, he gingerly flexed each knee before taking a seat on the side of the bed. "I didn't really want to wake you but I don't want to leave without checking on you first."

"Isn't it a bit early to be heading in to work?" Fully awake now, Sara squinted at the bedside clock. "It's only seven o'clock."

"I thought I'd go in now and take a look at the Mustang; see if I can get some sort of idea about her real condition before shift starts." He nodded towards the bedside table. "I think I've set you up with everything you'll need: water, tissues, cold tablets, cell phone. I didn't think you'd want anything to eat but, just in case, there's some vegetable soup on the stove; all you've got to do is heat it up."

"Ah no, I don't think so." She shook her head at the suggestion, her stomach rolling over at the thought. "I might get up in a little while though." She plucked at the neck of the old t-shirt was wore, wincing at the stale, sweaty smell. "I think having a shower will make me feel a lot better."

"Perhaps I'll stick around while you do." Grissom frowned. "You almost passed out in the elevator, remember? I don't particularly want to come home to find you unconscious on the bathroom floor."

"Actually, I don't feel as bad as I thought I would." Pushing herself up in the bed, Sara leaned back against the headboard. "My throat hurts and, if I didn't know better, I'd swear there was an elephant sitting on my chest but, apart from a little queasiness and a headache..." She shrugged then smiled reassuringly. "It's just a cold; I'll live."

"You do sound congested." He eyed her uncertainly; she looked better than she had when they'd first arrived home but her face was still pale and, despite the lowered temperature, a fine sheen of perspiration was clearly visible on her skin. "I don't know; maybe I shouldn't leave you alone at all."

"Now you're being silly." Pulling a couple of tissues from the box beside her, she quickly swiped at her dripping nose. "You go, I'll be fine; really." Turning her head slightly, she caught sight of the still tidy sheets at her side. "You never came to bed?"

"I didn't want to disturb you." He answered simply. "So I slept on the couch."

"Didn't want to disturb me or didn't want to catch what I've got?" Sara frowned across at him. "You never sleep properly on that thing."

"It'll wasn't too bad." He shrugged off the censure. "I got a couple of hours; that'll do for now"

She glared through narrowed eyes. "You need more than that."

""I'll catch up, don't worry about me." Standing, Grissom bent and kissed the top of her head. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'm positive." Although appreciative of the concern, Sara was not in the mood for fussing. "Now will you go and play with that car of yours."

"All right, all right, you win." Walking over to the closet, Grissom pulled out a jacket and shrugged it on. "I'll drop Hank off at the sitter's on the way, if he stays here tonight you're going to end up having to take him for a walk and I don't want you wandering about outside with that cold." He checked his pockets for wallet and keys then headed for the door. "I'm going to do my best to get out of the lab on time too, with some luck, we'll be home around 8am."

He was reaching for the door handle when he suddenly turned back. "Oh, I nearly forgot; I brought those three boxes from Elaine's up from the storeroom; I've only gone through one so far but if the other two are the same, I think they can just go straight in the dumpster out the back."

"Nothing exciting?" Trying unsuccessfully to smother a yawn, Sara scooted back down in the bed.

"Not really." Grissom shook his head. "Elaine was right, it's mostly old books and I've replaced most of them over the years anyway. There's some paperwork in there too, nothing important though; I think John just decided to pad out the boxes with the contents of my desk drawers." He shrugged dismissively. "I've shoved them against the wall next to the door for now; I'll go through the others and get rid of them when I get home."

"I could do that for you." Rolling onto her side, she regarded him with heavy eyes. "It'll give me something to do when I get up; with you and Hank gone I'm probably going to be bored stupid anyway."

"If you want to wade through twenty year old trash then you're welcome to it, honey." With a grin, he watched her struggle to remain awake. "Okay, I'm going this time; you have a good night and if you need anything at all just give me a call."

The only reply he got was an indecipherable mumble and he smiled as he carefully edged his way out of the room. Glancing back before he closed the door, Grissom wasn't at all surprised to find her already sound asleep.

* * *

"You know, I've watched this car go past me three times now." Ignoring the light drizzle that had set in earlier in the evening, Mary Reynolds leaned in through the open passenger side window. "I thought I'd scored when you finally pulled up to the curb." She grinned and gave her head a disapproving shake. "I gotta tell you, Jim; you're the last person I expected to find cruising up and down Tonnelle Avenue tonight."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know you'd be sheltering in a doorway?" Responding in kind, Jim smiled sarcastically. "Mind you, I was speaking to one of the girls up on Frelinghuysen this morning and she told me that 'Old Mary' was _still_ plying her trade up here at the other end of town so maybe I shouldn't be too surprised that you want to stay warm and dry; you are getting on now, aren't you?"

"Old Mary!" Ignoring his good-natured dig, she rolled her eyes at the epithet. "Can you believe it? I'm 49 for God's sake and I get stuck with that name."

"Well, that does make you an old-timer out here, you know." Jim pointed out with a grin. There's not many people that can survive on the streets for as long as you've done."

"It's not like I ever had a choice." She gave him a modest shrug. "It's no picnic but it's not that hard; common sense if what gets me by. No drugs, no alcohol and I always make sure my john's are clean _and_ well-dressed, if you get my drift. Plus, most of my customers now are regulars from the old days so I've got it a lot easier than a most of the girls around here."

Noticing that the rain was beginning to come down harder, Brass nodded towards the small diner just a few doors down. "Come on, I'll buy you a coffee for old times sake."

Five minutes later, warming her hands on the outside of her hot cup, Mary chuckled. "Remember the first time we did this?"

"How could I forget? It was my first night on patrol in this division and I'd already warned you once about soliciting." Jim smiled at the memory. "When I came around that corner and saw you at it again I was ready to run you in then and there."

She grinned across at him. "Yeah but you didn't though."

"Well that's when you blurted it all out." He used his fingers to mark off each point. "Your father had taken off God knows where, your mother was an alcoholic, and Family Services were knocking on the door trying to take your younger sisters into care. If it had been anyone else I would have just taken it with a grain a salt and hauled their ass back to the station but-" Jim met her steady gaze. "I don't know; I just knew you weren't trying to scam me."

"You were the first one that listened."

"You were the first one I listened _to._" Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed. "The department back then was full of guys who saw working girls as vermin and, unfortunately, most of them were guys that I admired."

"Yeah, but you quickly learnt that we were human after all." Mary shrugged casually. "Most of us anyway."

Dipping his head, Jim stared into his coffee. "I also learnt that a lot of those guys I'd idolized were corrupt."

She could hear the pain in his voice and knew that, even after all these years, he was still paying a price for the part he played in the massive cleanup and resulting reorganization of the Newark Police.

"You did good work here, Jim; both on the streets _and_ in the department." Reaching across the table, she gave his hand an affectionate pat. "Hell, I haven't had to blow a cop for years now." As his head came up, her grin turned mischievous. "Well, not when they're on duty anyway."

Allowing himself a quick chuckle, Jim took a mouthful of the hot brew and was trying to work out the best phrasing for his question when Mary beat him to it.

"I'm sure you didn't come looking for me just to reminisce though." She took a sip from her own cup before placing it back on the table in front of her. "So, I'm going to guess this is about Ellie."

"You've seen her?" Jim's eyes widened in surprise.

"Seen her _and_ spoken to her." Mary gave him an incredulous look. "She was here four or five weeks ago."

"She was?" Hope surging through him, Jim leaned forward anxiously. "What did she want?"

"She was looking for an old friend of hers; the two of them used to hang out together round here when Ellie was..." Mary broke off when she remembered who she was talking to. "Well, you know what she was doing back then."

"Yeah, only too well." Brass sighed wearily. "So, did you tell her where she could find this friend?"

"Oh yeah, that wasn't hard; Lauren's at Evergreen Cemetery over on North Broad Street." Mary replied nonchalantly. "They found her body under one of the turnpike ramps; the cops said she'd ODed."

"What did Ellie do when you told her that her that?"

"She did what I would have expected her to do: she just shrugged and accepted it." Mary shook her head sadly "You know what it's like on the streets, Jim: people live, people die; Ellie learned that lesson years ago.

"Look, according to some information I was given recently, she's cleaned up and is off the game." He wasn't surprised by his companion's disbelieving look. "So far, you're the only person I've come across that's actually seen her lately _and _you were always a pretty good judge of people." He held her gaze, his eyebrows rising in question. "What do you think, Mary? Could that be true?"

She breathed in deeply as she pondered his question.

"I know what you want me to say, Jim, but honestly-" She shook her head. "I have no idea. When I saw her she certainly wasn't high, if that means anything, and she looked a lot healthier than the last time the two of us met but as for a change of profession? That's anyone's guess."

"Did she tell where she was staying?" Desperate for anything that might point him in the right direction, Jim persevered. "Say anything at all that might help me find out where she is?"

"I got the feeling that she was only passing through." Mary's brow furrowed as she tried to recall what it was Ellie had said that day. "When she found out that Lauren was dead the only thing I really remember her saying was something about 'plan B'." Seeing his mouth begin to open, Mary held up a hand to halt the question. "Don't ask me what that means; I don't have a clue."

"And that's all?"

"That's it." She offered him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Jim; I can tell by your face you were hoping for more."

"No." Pulling his wallet from his pocket, Jim smiled reassuringly. "Believe me; you've given me more information in five minutes than I've been able to get in weeks." Slipping a couple of notes free, he anchored them beneath his cup.

"What about your ex-wife?" Long aware of the enmity between the pair, Mary was almost reluctant to bring it up. "She still lives in town here, doesn't she? Have you been to see her yet?"

"Not yet, but I guess I can't put it off any longer, can I?" Sliding along the bench seat, Jim got to his feet. "I'll stop by and see her tomorrow; should make her day having me turn up on the doorstep." He hesitated slightly over his final question before deciding he had nothing to lose. "Look, I know she wouldn't have had him with her when she came looking for you but did Ellie mention a baby at all? A little boy?"

"I'm sorry Jim." Guessing now what he was really after, Mary's eyes filled with sympathy. "She never said anything about a child at all." Noting the despondent look on his face, she knew she was right and sought another way to help. "How about if I check round with the others for you? Ellie had a lot of acquaintances in this town. I may not be the only one she spoke to."

"You think that'll do any good?" Unwilling to have his hopes dashed again, Jim's tone was cynical.

"It can't hurt." Mary pointed out. "If you let me know where I can find you, I'll give you a call if something turns up."

"I'm staying at a motel out by the airport for now but I'll probably be heading home tomorrow night after I've seen Nancy." Removing a LVPD business card from his wallet, Jim underlined his cell phone number. "You can get me on this number anytime though."

She took hold for the card and look up at him in surprise when he didn't immediately relinquish it.

"Anything, Mary." Locking eyes with her, Jim hoped to hell this wasn't going to be another dead end. "I'll take anything at all."

"Trust me, Jim." Reaching out with her free hand, she placed it around his and squeezed. "If anyone around here knows something about your daughter _or_ your grandson, I'll let you know."

Feeling him release his grip on the card, she slipped it securely into her purse and nodded towards the door.

"What I suggest you do for now though is head back to that motel and get a good night's sleep." Picking up her cup again, she offered him a teasing smile. "After all, if you're meeting up with that ex-wife of yours tomorrow, you're probably going to need it."

* * *

Turning his key in the lock, Grissom had to move quickly to prevent the door slamming back on its hinges as the desperate boxer pushed anxiously against it. Finally gaining admittance, Hank rushed across the living room and down the stairs, intent on finding his mistress.

The apartment was silent and Grissom guessed she was asleep again although the neat piles of books in the living room as well as the discarded pillow and throw on the couch offered definitive proof that she had been up at some time.

Making his way down to the kitchen, he pulled his jacket off and tossed it casually on the counter before opening the fridge and reaching for the orange juice. He'd just closed the door when quiet murmurs from the bedroom let him know the dog had found his quarry. Opening a cupboard, he retrieved two glasses and set them down on the tiled worktop before pouring each of them a drink. The tapping of nails against the laminate floor heralded the dog's reappearance, followed seconds later by Sara.

"Good morning." Smiling a welcome, Grissom held out the juice for her as she passed. "Hank didn't wake you, did he?"

"No." Sara took the glass automatically and slid it onto the counter as she took a seat on the first of the stools. "I was just lying on top of the bed."

"How are you feeling now?" Dressed in yoga pants and a singlet, she'd slung a sweater around her shoulders and, as Grissom watched, she tugged it tighter around her as though warding off a chill. He frowned at the movement and studied her tired face. "You're still pretty pale, Sara; you sure you should be up?"

"I'm fine." She glanced down at the stool beside her before lifting her head to meet his stare. "How was shift?"

"Slow." Opening the fridge, he replaced the juice bottle. "Which was just as well since we're down a team member. I told everyone you wouldn't be in tomorrow either so, since Thursday's your rostered night off, that'll give you three whole days to beat that bug you've got."

He'd been expecting a protest but all he got was a wooden nod as her attention wandered, once again, to the neighboring stool.

"I managed to take a look at the car." Leaning back against the counter, Grissom watched her carefully. "I don't know how much of the trouble is the starter motor and how much is actually the solenoid but, either way, I don't think it's going to be as big a problem as we thought." It was clear that she wasn't listening and he decided he'd had enough. "Have I done something wrong?"

Looking across the counter at him, Sara chose to ignore the question. "I sorted through those last two boxes for you."

"So I noticed." Lifting his glass, Grissom took a sip. "Let me guess: moldy books and twenty year old tax returns."

"Pretty much; although I did come across something that I thought you might want to keep." Putting her hand down, she lifted a book from the stool and read the title. "'The Making of a Scientist' by Raymond Ditmars."

"God, I'd forgotten I even had that." Stepping forward, he took the leather-bound tome from her, his face breaking into a smile as he traced the gold lettering on the front cover. "It's a 1937 first edition. I found it in a book store in Duluth."

Sara watched him impassively, her hand dropping down to the empty seat again. "I found a pretty interesting bookmark in there too but before I show you that I need to ask you a question."

"Okay." Placing the book down, he leaned against the worktop and waited.

"When you left Minnesota, you went back to Los Angeles and then, a couple of years later, you came here to Vegas, correct?"

"You know it is." Reacting to the distinct chill in her voice, Grissom crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "You probably know my career history better than I do."

"Obviously I don't." Lifting her hand, Sara held up the photograph for him to see. "Because if I did I'd know exactly where, along that particular path, you'd abandoned your wife and child."

TBC

**A/N: **Thanks for reading and please, consider hitting that review button; it's amazing what a little feedback can do :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 16**

Grissom felt the breath catch in his throat as he stared at the picture in her hand.

He'd only seen the photo once before but he remembered the afternoon it was taken as if it were yesterday: the sounds of friends and colleagues as they'd filled his small apartment, the feel of her in his arms as they'd both examined the table overflowing with gifts and the slight thickening underneath his hands as they rested on her stomach, almost impossible to see but there nonetheless.

The only gift that had been missing that day was the one he'd intended giving her when they were alone; the gift that, in the end, had turned his world upside down and destroyed a piece of him forever

"Well?"

Sara's demand for an answer pulled him back to the present and, finally able to tear his gaze from the picture, he looked up and straight into the angry eyes of his lover. "That's not my wife."

"Really?" Feigning surprise, Sara turned the photo around and looked at it again. "I'm not blind, you know; she's wearing a gold band on her left ring finger and, unless I'm very much mistaken, that means married."

"Look closer." With a tight nod of his head, Grissom gestured towards the picture. "It may not have been the biggest diamond in the world but it was there nonetheless; I might have been stupid enough to become engaged to her but I thank God everyday that I never actually married the bitch."

His tone remained level throughout but the vehemence of that last word made Sara flinch in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"You want something to eat?" Turning his back on her, Grissom pulled the refrigerator open again. "I noticed you didn't touch any of the soup I made but if you feel like something different I can always-"

"The only thing I _want_ is an explanation for this photograph and to know why I haven't heard anything about it before now." Sara broke off as a dry cough tore through her chest and, reaching for her glass, took a sip of juice before continuing. "I told you everything about my past; I thought you had done the same."

"I told you everything that you needed to know." Still staring into the fridge, his voice was calm and controlled. "What you're seeing in that photo happened a long time ago; it has nothing to do with now and it has nothing to do with us."

"And that's the only explanation that I get?" Sara couldn't help her bemused laugh. "I'm sorry, Gil; that's just not good enough."

"Good enough or not, that's all I'm willing to tell you." Swinging the fridge door closed, Grissom finally turned to face her, his eyes filled with repressed anger. "Now, do you want some breakfast or not?

"Oh no; you're not getting away with that." Dropping the photo onto the counter, Sara flicked it across towards him. "She may not have been your wife, Grissom but she was, obviously, the mother of your child and that is something I _need_ to know about; I think you owe me that at least.

"I don't owe anybody anything!" Reaching across, he grabbed hold of the picture and tore it in half. "I don't owe you, I don't owe her and it's nobody's business but mine so leave it the hell alone."

Silence followed his pronouncement and Hank, terrified by both the tension in the air and the tone of the voices around him, took the opportunity to scurry across the room and up the stairs, his tail clamped firmly between his hind legs.

Sara watched the dog go before rounding on Grissom.

"Now look what you've done!"

"What I've done?" He stared incredulously at the woman in front of him. "All I've done is come home from work; you're the one that went on the attack, remember? Not me."

"And do you blame me?" Hopping down off the stool, Sara stood her ground in front of him. "I told you everything years ago, remember? I sat on that damn chair and poured my heart out to you; I told you about my parents, about my brother, about growing up in foster care..." She paused to catch her breath. "You were the only person I've ever done that with and then to find out that you're keeping something like this from me." Pulling a handful of tissues from her pocket, she roughly wiped her nose. "I trusted you, Grissom; I thought you trusted me."

"I do"

"Except?"

He stared at her in silence.

"Come on Gil, finish the sentence." Crossing her arms across her chest, Sara stared him down. "You trust me except..."

When he still didn't speak, she managed a sad nod.

"I thought as much. That whole 'intimately' thing was a crock wasn't it? You don't trust me at all."

"That's not true." Finally finding his voice, Grissom shook his head to ward of the accusation. "Just leave it, Sara, please; for my sake, just leave it alone."

"How can I leave it when I don't know what this means." She implored.

"It means nothing, alright?" Balling the two halves of the picture together, Grissom tossed them into the trash. "_It_ means nothing and _she_ means nothing."

Sara's own temper finally flared. "How the hell can you say that?"

"Very easily." He assured her, his eyes flashing with repressed anger. "Now, just leave it the hell alone." With a weary sigh, he raked his fingers through his hair. "You know what? I've had enough."

As Sara watched, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the stairs.

She stared after him in surprise. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out." He threw over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time. "Why? You got a problem with that too?"

"The only thing I've got a problem with the fact that you're refusing to discuss this with me." Climbing the stairs after him, Sara paused at the top step. "I expect crap like that from other people, Grissom but not from you."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you then." Pulling open the front door, he briefly glanced back at her. "Don't bother waiting up; I have no idea when I'll be back."

As the door slammed behind him, Sara stood and stared.

The shock and indignation she'd felt at the initial discovery of the photograph had disappeared; replaced by concern regarding Grissom's reaction. She'd been expecting many things from him in regards to the revelation: embarrassment, shame, even fear over her own reaction but the cold, deep-seated anger that the picture had provoked along with his refusal to talk was something she never could have predicted.

Hearing a quiet whimper, she glanced to her right and saw the worried boxer cowering at the far side of the couch, his gaze darting from her to the door and back again. Taking a seat on the first of the cushions, Sara clapped her hand against her leg as an encouragement to the scared animal.

"It's okay, Hank, come here."

Warily, he made his way around the couch towards her, his big, brown eyes searching her face for reassurance. Taking his head in her hands, she smiled down at him, hoping her voice would be able to impart some measure of comfort to the frightened dog.

"Don't worry, baby; he'll be back when he's ready."

* * *

Catching the tail end of morning rush hour had turned what should have been a fifteen minute drive into a forty minute odyssey and Brass was reminded, once again, why he was glad he'd gotten out of New Jersey when he had.

Finally turning into West Hamilton Place, he pulled the rental into the first vacant parking space he could find then scanned the only inhabited side of the tree-lined street for number 24. He located it twenty yards further along the road, the four storey brownstone building tucked neatly in amongst it neighbors; a far cry from the tiny three bedroom, one bath row house he, Nancy and Ellie had shared over on Greenwood Street.

Mounting the concrete steps that lead to the front door, Jim hesitated briefly at the top; one hand outstretched, and took a deep breath before pushing the doorbell.

At first glance, his ex-wife didn't seem to have changed much at all: her hair was shorter and a couple of shades lighter than he remembered and the clothes she wore were distinctly more expensive than she'd previously worn but, apart from that, Nancy looked much as she always had; an impression that was further reinforced when the welcoming smile she'd answered the door with turned into an frosty glare of disdain as she realized who stood on the other side.

"Oh God." Stepping out onto the porch, she pulled the door firmly shut behind her. "What the hell are you doing here?

"It's nice to see you too, Nancy." With a wide grin, Jim cocked his head towards the closed door behind her. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No!" She shook her head quickly as she scanned up and down the street. "I'm expecting guests for lunch and I do _not_ want you here when they arrive so do me a favor and go away."

"I don't think so." Leaning back against the porch railing, Jim made a show of making himself comfortable. "I see you've hit the mother lode at last."

"Excuse me?"

"This place." Enjoying his ex's obvious discomfort; he swept his arm out to encompass the immediate neighborhood. "Who'd have thought that you would ever own a house overlooking Hamilton Park? Just the two of you living here, is it? Or are you taking in lodgers to help out with the mortgage?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Rising to the bait, Nancy's top lip curled into a sneer. "Ronald owns this house outright; he has done for years."

"Of course he has." Jim had never met her latest husband but he'd heard stories, both of the man's affluence _and_ of the twenty-five year age difference that separated the 'happy couple'. "And how is Donald anyway?"

"It's Ronald." She corrected. "And he's very well, thank you."

"What? You haven't sucked the life out of him yet?" Jim injected as much surprise as he could into his voice "God Nancy, you've been married to the man for almost a year now; you must be losing your touch."

Bristling at the inference, her lips formed a thin line. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be." Jim's smile turned cold and, pushing himself off the railing, he got down to business. "I need to find Ellie."

"And how am I supposed to help you with that?" One carefully plucked eyebrow rose in question. "I told you on the phone a couple of weeks ago, Jim, I have no idea where she is and, what's more, I don't want to."

"She's your daughter."

"Mores the pity."

"And we also have a grandchild." Jim pointed out.

"Yes, you mentioned that when you called as well."

"And what?" Jim's stare turned incredulous. "That doesn't mean anything to you? Jesus Christ, Nancy; I always knew you were a cold-hearted-"

Forgetting all about her expected guests _and_ her immediate neighbors, Nancy's voice rose in anger. "And who made me that way?"

"Yeah, you were always the innocent one, weren't you?" Jim didn't even try to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. "I'm the one that dragged you out of the house and into Mike O'Toole's bed, I'm the one that forced the bastard to knock you up and, no doubt, I'm the one that turned Ellie into what she is today."

With a smirk, she answered in kind. "Well, I can hardly take all the credit, can I?"

"Shit Nancy, you never took _any_ of it; I could have thrown you out all those years ago remember but, instead..." With a weary sigh, Brass ran his hand over his face. "Instead I tried to make the best of what we had; it's not just my fault that it didn't work out."

Standing just feet away, Nancy couldn't miss the exhausted slump to his shoulders and her attitude softened slightly.

"No, you're right, you did your best, I'll give you that; you gave her your name, you help raise her..." She gave a half-shrug. "...well for the first few years anyway, and even now you're running around after the little tramp; from what I hear it's more than that friend of yours is willing to do."

Catching the slip straight away, Jim tried to keep his tone casual. "What friend?"

"The one that's responsible for the grandchild you're so desperate to find."

"If you have nothing to do with Ellie anymore how do you that she's claiming my friend is the father?"

Nancy poise never altered but Jim noted the slightly panicked look in her eyes as she realized her error. Meeting his stare, she remained silent.

"She was here, wasn't she?"

Never taking her eyes off him, Nancy shook her head determinedly. "She knows I won't have her here."

"So, if she didn't come here where did you meet her?"

"I never said I did."

"No, I'm saying you did." Pushing himself off the railing, Jim took a menacing step forward. "Where is she?"

"I don't know." Staring into his eyes, Nancy knew enough about him not to push her luck. "She phoned me a couple of months ago, okay? She gave me a sob story about the baby and told me she needed money."

"And you did what?"

"I told her I couldn't help her." Seeing the anger in her ex-husband's face, Nancy stepped back towards the door. "I told her if she needed money, she'd have more luck going after the father provided, of course, she actually knew who he was. That's when she told me about your friend; what's his name again? Bill? Phil?"

"Gil; his name is Gil and he isn't the father." Looking back at her, Jim couldn't hide his disgust. "You've known about Caleb for months now and you never thought to call and tell me."

"She made her bed a long time ago." The momentary unease she'd felt had now turned into self-righteous indignation. "I told her when she first walked out she would not be welcomed back and I meant it."

Repulsed by what he'd just heard, Jim stared. "Does whatshisname even know about her?"

She nodded once. "He knows I have a daughter."

"Really?" Both eyebrows rose in surprise. "And where does he think she's been all this time?"

"London mostly." Nancy's smile turned smug. "She's very busy and doesn't get back to the States much."

"How convenient for you." Jim sneered. "You'll never change, will you? It's just one lie after another; you've always been the same. He's what? Eighty or something? Why don't you just tell the man the truth? His step-daughter is a crack whore with an illegitimate kid; the shock will probably kill him and you'll get your hands on all that money a lot sooner than you're expecting."

Face reddening at the insinuation, Nancy turned towards the door, her hand reaching for the knob. "I think it's time you left."

"I'm not so sure about that." She paused at his words and Jim allowed himself a malicious smile. "I'm booked on a flight out this afternoon but maybe I should stick around for a bit and get to know this husband of yours." He watched with satisfaction as panic washed across her face. "I bet there are lots of things Ronald and I could find to talk about."

"You wouldn't dare?" It was uttered almost breathlessly.

"You want to bet?" He laughed as the color drained from his ex-wife's face. "Don't worry I'm going; personally, I can't wait to get the stench of this place out of my nostrils, but I promise you Nancy, if I ever find out that you had any part in this game Ellie's playing, I will be back and it won't be to see you."

Heading down the steps, he stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at her.

"Oh and Nancy?" Jim waited until she turned back. "When I find that baby, and I _will_ find him, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you have nothing to do with him. As far as Caleb will be concerned, and as far as I'm concerned as well, his maternal grandmother is dead."

* * *

It took Grissom more than three hours to return home.

Lying awake in the darkened bedroom, Sara listened as he made his way through the silent apartment, heard him enter their room and toe off his shoes, felt the bed dip as he took his place beside her and smelt the faint, unmistakable aroma of bourbon as he turned on his side to watch her.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Staring up at the ceiling, she refused to look at him. "The fact that you never told me about them or for walking out the way you did?"

"Both." Reaching over, he gently ran his finger along her arm. "And also for the way I spoke to you. I never should have done any of it."

"No, you shouldn't." Turning her head, her eyes locked with his. "You've been drinking."

"Just a couple." He answered honestly. "I did consider taking it further but…" He sighed wearily. "It's not worth the hangover. S_he's_ not worth the hangover."

"You're going to have to tell me about it, Gil." Rolling over, she wove her fingers through his and squeezed. "I don't see any way forward for us unless you do."

It was a conclusion Grissom had come to himself in the quiet bar down on Lake Mead Boulevard where he'd spent the past few hours. Unwilling to drink and drive, he'd left the Mercedes in the car park and walked home, the three bourbons he'd consumed sitting uneasily in his empty stomach. If nothing else, the journey had given him time to clear his head and rehearse what it was he wanted to say, what he _needed_ to say.

Which is why, when he opened his mouth and spoke, even he was surprised by the question that came out.

"Do you ever miss the ocean?"

TBC

**A/N:** Okay, not exactly the chapter many of you wanted but, apart from the fact that I needed to roll up Jim's trip to Newark, I decided that Grissom probably deserved a chapter to himself to get his story across; which is what he'll do in number 17. Thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 17**

Puzzled by the apparent non sequitur, Sara frowned. "There's no ocean in Minnesota."

"No." Grissom agreed. "Lots and lots of lakes but definitely no ocean." Propping himself up on one elbow, he shrugged. "Maybe if there had been things would have turned out differently."

"What was her name?"

"Does it matter?"

She was part of you life, Gil." Reaching across, she gently traced the line of his jaw. "A big part apparently so, yes, her name does matter."

"Amy." He said it with a sigh but, she noted thankfully, the anger seemed to have abated. "Her name was Amy Sorenson."

He fell silent and Sara allowed him a couple of moment before feeling the need to prompt.

"And what does Amy have to do with the ocean?"

"You grew up by the sea, didn't you?" Taking hold of her hand, he kissed the palm before laying it on the bed beneath his own. "Haven't you ever felt the pull of it since you've been here in Vegas?"

"I did... for a time." Sara admitted. "But not for a while now. I think it must be like long-distance running; every so often you hit that wall but if you can just keep going and not give into it, it fades and goes away."

"I hit the wall about three years into my stint in Minneapolis." Grissom's forehead creased with a frown as he remembered the almost overwhelming homesickness that head enveloped him all those years ago. "I'd felt it before and, like you said, if you can push through it you're fine but this time was different. I'd pretty much learnt everything that Phillip was willing to teach me and he'd been acting differently towards me for a while; John always said it was because he was jealous." He shrugged. "I don't know if that was true or not but it had been noticed by the director and, it was decided that we'd keep my departure under wraps for a while. The deal was I'd work out the last four months of my contract and he and the sheriff would, quietly, start looking around for my replacement."

Sara allowed herself a slight smile. "Having met Phillip Gerard, I'd like to bet that John was right about the jealousy."

"Probably." Grissom conceded. "Anyway, Amy was one of the receptionists at the lab; we'd been seeing each other, on and off, for about six months or so There was nothing serious about it, it was all very casual; we went out to dinner, took in a couple of movies and, eventually, started sleeping together."

He glanced at Sara to gauge her reaction but her neutral expression told him little.

"She was pretty and..." He struggled for a description. "Sweet I guess you could say; at least that's the way she came across. As I learnt later on, there were two sides to Amy: the one that she wanted you to see and the one she did her best to keep hidden; the real one."

With a slight huff, Sara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know the type."

"So do I... now." Turning onto his back, Grissom stared up at the ceiling. "She was 6 years younger than me and, although I didn't know it at the time, desperate to get out of Minnesota." He gave his head a slight shake. "I don't know how she found out I was leaving but somehow she did and, obviously, decided I was her passport to a new life."

Sara's eyebrow rose in question. "She got pregnant on purpose?"

"Oh, yeah." Even in the half-light of the bedroom, she could see his bitter smile. "I'd always been very careful about taking precautions but then she told me she'd gone on the pill and, like an idiot, I believed her." Taking a deep breath in, Grissom let it out slowly before turning his head in her direction. "I'll never forget opening my front door and finding her there, in tears, with that damn home pregnancy test in her hand."

"Ah, that explains it." With a grin, Sara shuffled closer and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. "I always wondered why you were so insistent about coming along to my doctor's appointment the last time I switched birth control."

"No, that had nothing to do with her." Reaching up automatically, he combed his fingers through her hair. "The reason I insisted on tagging along was because I wanted what was best for you. You'd already changed once, remember? And the second lot of pills seemed to be knocking you about even more than the first." Letting his hand slip down to her upper arm, he gently caressed the skin above the fold of her elbow. "I 'd decided that if he couldn't come up with a better solution then I was going to suggest a vasectomy but he was positive the implant would work and, as it turned out, he was right."

Her head rising quickly, Sara stared at him in amazement. "You'd have done that for me?"

"Of course." Amused by her expression, Grissom couldn't help but smile.

"So..." Settling down again, Sara snuggled in against his side and wondered, not for the first time, how she ever could have doubted him. **"**Now she's pregnant."

"Yeah." She felt the shrug, his shoulders rising and falling beneath her head. "I think, looking back, I realized then what she'd done but there wasn't a whole lot I could do, was there? The baby existed and we had to decide what to do about it".

"You were sure it was yours?" Sara didn't like asking but it was a valid question that needed answering.

"That's something I never doubted." Grissom replied simply. "DNA was still in its infancy back then but it _was_ being used successfully and Amy had picked up enough being at the lab to know that all it would take was a simply test to check her story. She wasn't stupid; that baby was mine."

Grissom waited for a comment but, when none was forthcoming, he carried on.

"It took a couple of days to really sink in. We got the pregnancy confirmed by a doctor, I talked everything through with John and Elaine _and _phoned my mother and then I did what I'd been brought up to do – I accepted responsibility and asked her to marry me."

"Which she jumped at." Sara concluded.

"The next couple of months were just a blur of plans: the wedding, the move back to California, I'd already lined up a job with the LA lab but we still had to find somewhere to live." Running his hand over his face, Grissom sighed. "I was introduced to her family about a week after we got engaged; I'd been expecting to be met with a shotgun once they found out why their eldest daughter was suddenly getting married but, surprisingly they were fine about it. Her mother wasn't too thrilled with the idea of her grandchild being bought up so far away but both she and Amy's sisters were full of ideas for the wedding and her dad..." He gave a low chuckle. "I think he was just looking forward to having another male in the family; he'd been trapped in a house full of females for over twenty years." He fell silent as he remembered the man. "You know, apart from me, I think he was the one that was hit hardest by what happened."

Having spent so long suppressing the truth about his time in Minnesota, Grissom was surprised at how easily the words now flowed.

"The photo that you found was taken the weekend before we were supposed to be getting married. We'd invited everyone around to the apartment for a... well I suppose it was a thank you party really; a chance to let everyone know how much we appreciated their help and support. Amy's family was there along with almost everyone from the lab and, although we didn't know it, Elaine and a couple of the other ladies had decided to turn it into a baby shower as well."

Shifting slightly, Grissom raised his free hand and slipped it beneath his head.

"I remember standing there and watching Amy unwrap the presents; all these tiny clothes and toys; it was almost impossible to believe that..." He drew in a shuddering breath and Sara's grip on his shirtfront tightened at the sound. "She looked so happy sitting there, surrounded by family and friends, and it was at that moment that I realized how selfish I was being by taking her away from it all. So, while everyone was busy admiring the gifts, I went out to the kitchen and phoned the lab director then later on, when we were alone, I told her I'd retracted my resignation and that we were staying in Minnesota."

Loosening Sara's hold on his top, Grissom guided her finger to the scar above his left eye.

"That's what she thought of my surprise."

Her head came up quickly at the words. "She hit you?"

"Actually it was the coffee cup she threw at me that did the damage." He lay still as she ran her finger over the long-healed wound. "We argued... loudly but as determined as she was to leave Minneapolis, I was even more determined that things would be better for her, _easier_ for her, if we stayed where we were."

Grissom closed his eyes as Sara's hand trailed gently down his face to come to rest, once again, on his chest.

"I'm not sure how long we stood there yelling at each other but I do know it was long enough for me to bleed through the towel I was holding to my head. I knew I had to do something about all the blood and I was angry at how unreasonable she was being so I called a stop to it; I told her I didn't give a damn what she wanted, the only thing that mattered was the baby. That's when she stormed out." He sighed heavily. "I assumed she'd gone home to her parents, I couldn't think of anywhere else she would have gone, but when I called and spoke to her father, I found out she was staying with one of her girlfriend. I gave him the abridged version of what had happened and he suggested giving her a day or so to cool off before trying to talk things through and, since he'd been dealing with her a hell of a lot longer than I had, I took his advice."

Sara stayed quiet not wanting to break his momentum.

"She didn't turn up for work the next day but I'd kind of expected that then, about halfway through shift, we got word of a multiple homicide up in Greenbush; a couple and their three kids found shot to death. The locals weren't really set up for something that big so they requested help and, since Phillip refused point blank to drive all that way, it was left to me and John to go up and help them out. The scene was a mess and, although John tried to help out, I was essentially working it alone; it took me two whole days just to process the house."

Grissom took a deep breath before continuing on.

"We arrived back at the lab late on Wednesday afternoon and found Amy's dad waiting for us out at reception. Apparently she'd turned up that morning saying she felt sick then, round about lunchtime, she'd started bleeding."

Sensing what was coming, Sara reached for his hand.

"They'd rushed her to the hospital but it was too late, she'd lost the baby."

"Oh, Gi-"

"No." Grissom quickly cut her off. "That's not the end of it. She was in Hennepin County Medical Center and John drove me straight over there to see her."He paused and Sara felt the tension in his body suddenly increase."And while I was standing by her bed being told in no uncertain terms that the whole thing was my fault for upsetting her the way I did and then disappearing off upstate, John was talking to a nurse he knew on staff who informed him that Amy hadn't had a miscarriage... what she'd actually had was an abortion."

He heard Sara gasp but ignored it and carried on.

"They didn't know where she'd had it performed, she refused to tell them, but, wherever it was, it hadn't been done properly; the termination was... incomplete. That's why she started bleeding when she did; it was her body's way of getting rid of what was left of the baby."

The only sound in the quiet room was Grissom's slightly louder than normal breathing as he fought to retain control of his emotions and Sara, struggling with her own, sought to encourage him beyond his current impasse.

"What did you do?"

He remained silent for a full minute before answering her question.

"I couldn't _do_ anything but stand and stare; John was yelling, Amy was yelling, her father was pleading with her to tell him it wasn't true." Shaking his hand free of Sara's grip, he swiped at his eyes. "I remember nurses coming in and security being called and in the middle of all that mess, I just walked out." He shrugged helplessly. "I walked from the hospital to the lab, got in my car and drove home. I was packing my bags when John and Elaine turned up an hour later; I knew I couldn't stay, not after that." Hearing Sara sniff, he reached across for the box of tissues and pulled it onto the bed. "That's when I first saw that photo, for some strange reason, John had decided I might want it as a memento of the baby." He surprised her with a quick laugh. "He never was the most sensitive person in the world."

Reaching across, Sara pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose. "So then you left Minneapolis for good."

"Yeah." Grissom nodded. "I left that night. John explained it all to the sheriff and then he and Elaine packed up the apartment for me. I told them to dump everything, I didn't want any reminders but, obviously, they didn't and I guess that picture got mixed in with the books."

"I'm sorry." Pushing herself up, Sara turned to face him. "I'm sorry about the baby, I'm sorry about the way you were treated back then but, most of all, I'm sorry that I never realized just what was behind your not wanting to have children." Reaching for his hand, she held it tightly. "I sat there and explained to you about my fears of passing on defective genes and not wanting to put a child through the stigma of having a grandmother who killed her husband and was locked away but... I guess I was just so glad you felt the same way that I did that I never thought to question it."

"I was glad that you didn't." He managed a smile. "I've had a lot of time to think things through since that all happened and one thing I'm positive of is that I never want to open myself up to a loss like that again." Turning his hand in hers, he allowed their fingers to lace together. "Not that I think you're anything like she was but the pain that I felt when I knew that baby was gone... I can't take the risk with another child."

"How far along was the pregnancy?"

"Eleven weeks, almost twelve; it was too early to find out the sex, especially back then but I always had the feeling it was girl." Rolling onto his left side, Grissom sighed. "Probably just as well things went the way they did, with my luck, she'd have been a carbon copy of Amy."

"No she wouldn't." Lying back down beside him, Sara stared into his exhausted eyes. "She'd have had your genes in there too, remember. Your daughter would have beautiful and smart and not in the least like her mother; you'd have made sure of that."

"Thank you." Having purged himself of twenty years worth of secret, Grissom felt exhaustion take hold.

Sara frowned. "For what?"

"For listening, for understanding." Slipping an arm around her waist, he tugged her closer "But mainly for being here."

"As if I'd be anywhere else." She playfully admonished. "Now, I think we should both think about getting some sleep."

He replied with a nod and they fell silent, both busy with their own thoughts, and Sara was surprised but grateful when, ten minutes later, the hand holding hers relaxed and Grissom's breathing evened out. Careful not to disturb him, she edged closer still and nestled her head beneath his chin.

Lying still, she concentrated on the soothing, steady rhythm of his heart as her mind replayed everything she'd been told.

It was another hour before she too surrendered to sleep.

* * *

Sara awoke to a heavy thump on the bed beside her and opened her eyes just in time to ward off the boxer's determined tongue.

"Sorry, I did make him promise not to do that but old habits die hard, I guess." Grissom, a cup in one hand and small plate in the other, rounded the end of the bed. "How do you feel?"

Pushing the big dog back, Sara pulled herself up to sit against the headboard. "Better." She smiled up at him, pleased to see how well-rested he now appeared. "How do _you_ feel?"

"Better." Returning her smile, Grissom slid the plate onto her lap and placed the cup on the bedside table. "There you go: lightly buttered toast and a cup of tea _and_ I expect you to eat it too."

"Actually, I am kind of hungry." Picking up a piece of bread, she nibbled experimentally on one edge before taking a more substantial bite. "What about you?" She frowned. "Aren't you having anything?"

"Already eaten." Taking a seat on the side of the bed, Grissom watched as she sipped at the tea. "And showered and shaved and taken his majesty over there out for his walk." He graced her with a cocky grin. "We can't all laze around in bed you know."

She answered the grin with one of her own before looking over at the dog. "I take it the two of you have made up then?"

"It took some groveling on my part but, apparently, there's nothing that can't be settled with the help of a packet of Snausages." Reaching over, he ruffled the big dog's ears. "What do you want me to do with him tonight? I'm quite happy to take him to the sitter's again but it'll have to be after a two mile hike; I've still got to go and get the car."

"Leave him here; he'll be fine with me." Having devoured the first slice of toast, Sara started on the other. "But we won't be lazing about, believe me; Greg's dropping by in about…" She glanced towards the clock. "Two hours to pick me and drive me to the lab."

"What?" Grissom's expression darkened slightly at the news. "Why?"

"I do have to go and pick up the Prius sometime, you know." She chose to ignore the scowl. "Greg phoned while you were… out this morning to see how I was and, since the two of us weren't exactly on speaking terms at the time, I asked him if he'd mind giving me a lift in on his way to work."

"Regardless of what kind of 'terms' we were on, I would have taken you if you'd asked, you know?" Reaching across, Grissom placed his hand on her forehead. "Well, at least your temperature feels pretty normal but you still sound a bit chesty. Are you sure you should be going out?"

"Positive." Pushing his hand away, she slipped the now empty plate onto the bedside. "I'm getting cabin fever locked up in here and I won't be gone long anyway; it'll only take an hour to get there and then get back. The fresh air will do me good."

"I'm not thrilled with idea but since you insist..." Grissom shrugged. "The least I can do is have the car outside and waiting for you when you arrive; that way, there'll be no reason for you to hang about."

"Thank you." She smiled. "Hey, why don't you stick around 'til Greg gets here anyway, we can always drop you off at the Mercedes on the way."

He considered it briefly before shaking his head. "That's all right, I can do with the exercise anyway. Besides…" He couldn't hide his smile. "There's an auto parts store on the way that I want to check out; if they've got the kit I need, I'm hoping I'll be able to test out an idea I have about the Mustang's starter motor."

"This is what life's going to be like around here from now on, isn't it?" Sara teased, secretly pleased to see him so apparently carefree after the events of the morning. "Our lives ruled by that car and all the work she's going to need."

"Probably." Pushing himself off the bed, Grissom grabbed his jacket before turning back again. "But you've got no one to blame but yourself since you all but insisted I take the project on."

Bending at the waist, he leaned in for a kiss, and Sara, expecting a quick peck on the brow, was surprised when his hand came up to tip her chin back and he caught her lips with his own.

She returned the kiss automatically before pulling back. "You do realize you've probably just caught my cold, don't you?

"Good, then we can laze around in bed together." Standing back, he examined her still pale face. "You sure you're all right to drive?"

"It's just a cold remember." She chuckled. "As you'll find out soon enough when those germs I just gave you kick in."

"You know best." Heading for the door, Grissom turned back before he reached it. "But no unnecessary side trips okay? The car will be ready for you when you get there then it's straight back here and taking it easy with Hank; the last thing we need to be contending with is a case of pneumonia."

"Stop worrying, will you; I'll be fine." Picking up the pillow beside her, she threw it playfully towards him, smiling as he caught it easily and tossed it back. "Now, go test that theory of yours while I get up and have shower; I'll see you at the lab in a couple of hours."

* * *

Bathed in the glow of the security lights that illuminated the rear of the lab complex, Grissom had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the deep-throated rumble of the Mustang's engine coming from the garage.

"I repacked the starter motor and, after a couple of false starts, she roared back to life." With the cell phone held up to one ear, he jammed his finger in the other in an effort to hear the response on the other end. "The problem I have now is that I've tested the solenoid and it's working but only just; it's not going to last too much longer."

Fumes from the car's ancient exhaust system caught in his throat and he moved away from the building out of their reach.

"I remember John buying a new one just before I left Minneapolis and, since he obviously never got round to fitting it on the car, I'm hoping it's still somewhere in your garage."

Sensing movement to his left, Grissom turned his attention to the street and the blue sedan that had been parked at the curb for the past half hour. No one seemed to be in it, or even near it but, something had moved, he was sure of that. He watched it carefully as he listened to Elaine Grogan speak, then, with a dismissive shake of his head, turned back to the matter at hand.

"No, Greg's gone right through all of those boxes and catalogued the parts that we've got and there's definitely no solenoid; would you mind having a look to see if there's anything there that we missed? Another box maybe?" He listened for a moment before breaking into a grin. "That's great Elaine, thanks; I'll probably be out here for another half hour so, if you like, you can give me a call when you're done. If you do have it Greg or I'll drop by and pick it up in the morning and, if not, I'll just order one in."

Checking his watch, he realized that Greg _and_ Sara had to be on their way in and, remembering his promise to have the Prius out and ready to go, he quickly wound up his call.

Heading back to the garage, Grissom stood in the open doorway and smiled happily at the sight, and sound, of the old car idling away in front of him. True, she was in desperate need of a decent tune up and the exhaust system obviously needed replacing along with God only knew what else but she was something that he never would have expected to come back into his life and, knowing what she'd meant to John, he vowed once again to get her back into shape and back on the road.

Walking over to the driver's side, he was about to reach for the keys that dangled from the Mustang's ignition when the first blow drove him to his knees.

Pain radiated throughout his skull and, feeling wetness running down the back of his neck, he raised a shaking hand to swipe at it weakly before blinking myopically at the blood that covered his palm.

Struggling to focus, he fought the encroaching darkness but nothing could keep it back.

It was as he finally lost the ability to stay upright that the second blow landed and Grissom was unconscious before he even hit the floor.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 18**

Making his way along the concrete path that led to the lab's front entrance, Warrick watched with interest as the black RAV4 pulled to a stop almost opposite the glass door and an unexpected, yet familiar figure, climbed out of the passenger seat.

"Well if it isn't Typhoid Mary." He broke into a grin as Sara shut the car's door and stepped up onto the kerb allowing Greg to drive further along the lot to his customary parking space. "What are you doing her tonight? I thought we weren't supposed to have the pleasure of your company until Friday at the earliest."

"You're not; well, not really." Sara returned the smile as she waited for him to draw up alongside. "I just had Greg drive me in so I could pick up my car." Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a couple of tissues and quickly dabbed at her nose. "As soon as I've done that, I'm heading back to bed."

"Just as well by the looks of you." Warrick took in the pale complexion and dark smudges underneath each eye before taking a step backwards. "The last thing any of us need is to catch whatever it is that you're cultivating there."

"Oh, I think you'll be safe enough." Noticing the cautionary move, Sara grinned. "Although I don't know why you're so worried; you've got your own private nurse at home, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to mop your fevered brow."

"Don't bet on it." He couldn't disguise the flash of regret that swept across his features. "Things aren't quite going the way I expected them too; in fact, if they don't pick up soon I really don't think Tina and I have much of a future together."

"Oh, Warrick." Shoving her tissues back into her pocket, Sara gave his arm a comforting pat. "Don't give up on it too soon, okay? Sometimes the best things in life are the ones you have to fight the hardest for."

"You know, I'm not really sure you're the one to be handing out advice like that." Pulling open the glass door, he stood back to allowed her to enter first. "We all know who it is you should have been fighting for and what do you do? End up living with Hank." He stepped into the cool of the reception area behind her. "It's not like I really know the guy but geeze, Sara; he screwed you over once, you've got to at least suspect he's going to do it again."

"There's nothing to worry about, Warrick, honestly." Surprised by the candid remark and the expression of concern on the tall man's face, Sara glanced around quickly for eavesdroppers before leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. "Can you keep a -"

She was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone and she shrugged apologetically as she pulled it from her pocket.

"Sidle."

"Sara?" She instantly recognized Elaine Grogan's voice. "I'm sorry to call you like this but I've been trying to get in touch with Gil and I'm not having any luck. I was only speaking to him fifteen minutes ago and he knew I'd be calling back but his phone just keeps ringing out."

"That's strange; he should have it with him." Sara frowned. "Hang on a second, Elaine."

As she clamped her hand over the phone's mouthpiece, Warrick's curiosity got the better of him. "What's up?"

"Wait a minute." Sara held up a restraining finger as she turned towards the lab's front desk. "Judy, have you seen Grissom lately?"

"Um..." The receptionist tapped her pen against her teeth as she gave it some thought. "Not for an hour or so; he was in the break room when I went to get some coffee but then I think he headed out back to the old garage."

With a nod of thanks, Sara returned the phone to her ear. "Looks like he's still out playing with the car, Elaine; he's probably up to his elbows in grease and oil and didn't want to get his phone dirty. I'm heading out there now; I'll let him know you want to speak to him.

"Actually, you could just give him a message if you like." Elaine offered. "Tell him there is another box here that he missed so if he wants to drop by in the morning and pick it up, I'll be home until about 10."

"Okay, I'll let him know." Turning at the sound of the front door opening, Sara watched as Greg entered and strolled over to join them. "I'm sure he'll be in touch."

She was about to wind up the call when the older woman spoke once more.

"Oh and tell him how nice it was to hear that engine going again; John would have been proud of him getting her up and running so quickly."

"I'll do that." Sara assured her with a smile. "Bye, Elaine."

Disconnecting the call, Sara turned to face the two men.

"Problem?" Warrick queried.

"No." Closing the phone, Sara shoved it back into her pocket. "Sounds like he's managed to get the Mustang going and has become so distracted by that that he's ignoring his phone."

"The Mustang's running now?" Greg butted in incredulously.

"According to Elaine it is." Sara told him, smiling at his barely suppressed excitement. "I'm headed out there now if you want to tag along; we can see how she looks while she's running or, more precisely, how she sounds."

"Let's go." Quickly linking his arm with hers, Greg cast a quick questioning glance at his other colleague. "Coming Warrick?"

Suppressing a chuckle at the younger man's enthusiasm, Warrick fell in beside them. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

Pushing against the large door, Greg held it ajar as his two companions made their way past him and out, once again, into the cool Vegas night. Stepping through after them, he hurried to catch up and smiled as the muted yet distinct sound of a heavy V8 engine echoed through the emptiness of the lab's rear lot.

"Well, I guess there's only one thing that can be making that noise." Sara commented as the three followed the short path to the back of the building.

"She's sounds kind of rough." Greg opined. "But I suppose any car would after being in storage for four years."

"It won't take the two of you long to sort that out; not now that it's up and running." Rounding the corner, Warrick's gaze swept over the front of the garage before he drew to a sudden halt. "But if that's the Mustang we can hear, why would Grissom be running the engine with the doors down?"

"What?" Turning to stare at the row of closed doors, Sara felt the breath catch in her chest. "He wouldn't."

"That's what I thought." Taking off at a run, Warrick sped across the lot and almost collided with the first of the doors. He yanked on it desperately trying to get it up and when it failed to budge, he moved quickly to the next. "I can't get them open." He heard the others right behind him and watched as Greg rushed past and tried the final two with the same results.

Stepping back, Greg shot a quick look in Sara's direction. "I think they're locked."

"But you've got a key, haven't you?" Sara gasped, returning his anxious gaze. "Grissom gave it to you a couple of days ago."

Greg nodded quickly. "It's back in my car."

"Go get it." Warrick ordered. "Now! And get some more people down here; if Grissom's in there, he's in trouble." As the younger man sprinted for the lab, Warrick balled his hand into a fist and hammered on the nearest door. "Griss? Grissom!"

"It's no good, Warrick; if he's in there, he can't hear you." Still struggling to catch her breath, Sara hurried past him. "There's a side door, isn't there? Maybe we can get in that way."

Making her way up the side of the building, she reached for the handle expecting to feel resistance and was surprised when it turned easily in her hand. Pulling the door open, Sara stepped back quickly as a plume of exhaust gases rushed through the opening.

"Wait a minute!" Stepping up behind her, Warrick grabbed her arm quickly as she started to move forward. "Let it air a bit, okay? We'll go in a second or two but we're not going to do him any good if-"

"We're not doing him any good standing out here either." Turning quickly, she glared angrily as she attempted to break free of his hold. "Someone has to go in there and shut off that car so let go of me, Warrick; I'm going in whether you like it or not."

"Okay, okay we'll both go but I want us to stick together." With a resigned sigh, he loosened his grip but didn't quite let go. "We'll turn off the car and have a quick look around but if we don't see anything then we come back out and wait for Greg to get here with that key, agreed?" He paused for a response but Sara remained silent. Tightening his hold again, Warrick met her glare with one of his own "Neither of us is going in there until you agree, Sara so _you're_ the one holding things up now, not me."

"All right, I'm not arguing with you, but we need to go in there and we need to do it now." Shaking her arm roughly, Sara finally succeeded in dislodging his grip and with both hands free, she pulled the neck of her top up over her nose and mouth and strode purposefully into the noisy garage.

Standing in the doorway, Warrick gave his head an exasperated shake before mimicking her action with his own shirt and following her in the fume-filled building.

The interior of the garage throbbed with the sound of the Mustang's motor and even through his makeshift mask, Warrick could clearly smell the gasoline-tainted air. Catching up with Sara, he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder as she led the way across the back of the garage, bypassing the discarded furniture and her own Prius, to the car in the end bay.

Both of the old Ford's front doors stood open and, as Sara paused impatiently by the trunk, Warrick leant in on the passenger side and twisted the key in the ignition finally shutting down the big V8 engine. He was about to back out again when his attention was caught by the sight of an all-too familiar splash of red on the inside of the driver's door.

"Sara?" Trying desperately not to touch anything further, he eased himself out of the Mustang. "There's blood spatter in the car."

"What?" She was at his side in seconds. "Where?"

"Driver's door." Raising his hand, Warrick pointed through the car and Sara leant in to see for herself. "It looks fresh."

Leaving her to it, he rounded the back of the vehicle and headed down the other side but it wasn't until he reached the open door that he saw the large red stain on the concrete floor below it.

"There's more." Peering over the top of the door frame, Warrick stared down at the blood. "We've got a pool of it here." Lifting his eyes, he peered through the haze and could just make out the shape of an arm and hand lying immobile beyond the Mustang's front wheel.

"There he is!" Reeling quickly, he sped back around the car and down the other side, almost colliding with Sara as she extricated herself from the vehicle. He didn't get a clear view of Grissom until he cleared the front fender but when he did, Warrick was stopped instantly in his tracks.

Positioned on his back a foot or so in front of the Mustang, Grissom lay in a rapidly growing sea of red.

His right arm was stretched out to the side while the other had been pulled back behind his head, the left hand lying up against the thick wooden leg of the workbench. With his head tilted slightly to the left, the large, jagged tear in his scalp was clearly visible but it was the wound in his abdomen that transfixed Warrick.

His t-shirt had been ripped open to expose his chest and stomach and, running in a long unbroken line from his right lower ribs to just above his left hip, was a large, bloody incision. As Warrick looked on, blood welled up out of the wound and ran in rivulets down Grissom's flanks to add to the puddle beneath him.

It was Sara's startled gasp as she came up beside him that finally broke through Warrick's reverie and, stepping over the unconscious man, he quickly knelt by his side.

"Grissom?" Reaching out, his fingers fumbled anxiously against his boss's neck in search of a pulse. "Come on, Griss; don't do this to us."

Sara's eyes flitted up quickly at her colleague's desperate plea. "Is he-"

"No, no he's got a pulse." Warrick exhaled a sigh of relief as he finally located it, weak and slow but a pulse nonetheless. "He's alive, Sara but we've got to get him out of here."

Sara dropped to her knees on Grissom's other side and quickly shrugged out of her jacket. Balling the lightweight cotton up, she pressed it carefully to the deep gash on his scalp and applied pressure. "I don't think we should move him." Reaching for his hand, she held on tight.

"I don't think we have a choice." Following her lead, Warrick stripped off his shirt and folded it into a long pad before laying it cautiously across Grissom's midsection. They both watched with dismay as the material quickly turned red. "We can't risk leaving him in here any longer; we've got to get him out now." Pushing to his feet, he glared at the still locked roller doors. "Where the hell is Greg?"

He'd barely turned back when he heard the sound of rapidly approach footsteps on the other side of the door and, raising his hand, Warrick thumped on the heavy metal siding. "Greg! We're behind the end one; get it open, we need help now!"

TBC

**A/N2:** This might sound slightly strange but I need to say a very big thank you to chicsi whom, as far as I know, isn't even reading Shadow Play but has been plowing through Lex Talionis and very kindly pointed out a screw up with two of the chapters that I'd failed to notice. I have no other way of contacting you since the reviews I've been getting are minus a reply link but I do appreciate the heads-up _and_ the feedback and hopefully, someday, you'll read this and know you have my personal thanks.

Finally, and I really hate bringing this up, but reviews have dropped off enormously over the past couple of chapters and considering the story stats have actually gone up, I'm finding that just a little bit strange. I don't expect each and every person to review each and every chapter believe me, I'm not that greedy, but surely it isn't too much to ask that you throw me a sentence or two every once in a while. Remember, it's your comments and critiques that help keep this thing (and me) on track.

Thanks for reading.


	19. Chapter 19

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 19**

As the garage door began to rise, Warrick thrust his hand underneath and shoved it up to its full extent. Ignoring the three shocked men directly in front of him, his eyes locked gratefully on the fourth standing just a few yards behind.

"Doc, thank God!" Pushing past the others, Warrick all but pulled Al Robbins into the open doorway.

"I'd just arrived when Greg came barreling through the door yelling something about an accident." Glancing past the harried CSI, Robbins quickly took in the scene on the garage floor. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know; we just found him like this." Warrick gestured anxiously towards Grissom's abdomen and the blood-soaked shirt that covered it. "He's been cut; I don't know how badly but it looks..." Unwilling to give voice to his fears, Warrick shrugged helplessly. "It looks serious."

"He's got a head wound too." In contrast to her colleague, Sara's demeanor was calm and controlled. "I've been applying pressure but it's still bleeding."

"That's good, Sara." Frowning at the tone, Robbins watched her closely; the detached manner, the hand clamped firmly to Grissom's as well as her solid focus on the task at hand all pointed to shock and he hurried to reassure her. "Just keep it up; you're doing the right thing."

She glanced up briefly at the other three men before settling her gaze on Conrad Ecklie. "We're going to need an ambulance."

"It's all under control; Judy's calling it in now. We'll have paramedics here in just a couple of minutes." Stepping into the garage, he quickly placed Robbins' medical bag down at Grissom's side before turning to look at Greg. "Sanders, get the rest of these doors open; we need to air this place out." As Greg jumped to it, Ecklie turned his focus on Nick. "Stokes, I want you up at the front entrance; we need to make sure that ambulance knows exactly where to come."

"But-" Loathe to leave, the Texan gestured pleadingly towards his three friends.

"Go on, Nick." Placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder, Ecklie guided him back out of the garage. "There's nothing you can do here anyway. Doctor Robbins has got it all under control; he'll take care of them, don't worry."

Knowing he was right, Nick silently handed him the small cylinder he was carrying and, turning quickly, sprinted off towards the front entrance. Almost instantly, Ecklie turned back to the scene playing out on the garage floor.

"How long has he been in here?" Easing himself down beside opposite Sara, Al Robbins began a quick visual assessment of his patient.

"Elaine said she was talking to him about quarter of an hour ago so, at a guess, ten minutes." When Robbins glanced up, Sara shrugged helplessly. "I don't think it could be much longer than that."

"Okay." Detecting a note of fear in her voice, Al gave her an encouraging smile before turning to Ecklie. "Let me have that oxygen, Conrad, the sooner we start getting that into him the better."

Taking the proffered cylinder, Robbins quickly turned it on and checked the airflow through the mask before placing it carefully over Grissom's nose and mouth.

"Has he been conscious at all since you found him?" Lifting the edge of the bloody shirt, Robbins winced before dropping it back in place.

"No; he's been out of it the whole time." Leaning heavily against the garage wall, Warrick rubbed his hand anxiously back and forth across his mouth and, easing back into the garage, Greg silently took up a position next to older colleague.

"Gil?" Lifting first one eyelid and then the other, Robbins closely examined each pupil. "Come on, Gil; time to wake up." He gave him a second to respond before reaching for his bag. "Okay, we'll keep an eye on his vital signs and do what we can to control the bleeding but I think we'll leave as much as possible up to the paramedics."

Wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Grissom's right arm, he quickly pumped it up. As he waited for the reading to register, he frowned at the positioning of his other limb. "Why's that arm bent back like that?"

"There's drag marks on the ground around the other side of the car." Staring at the blood that continued to drip onto the floor, Warrick shivered as a chill ran through him. "I think he was probably pulled by that arm."

"Makes sense." Making a mental note of the BP result, Robbins quickly felt around Grissom's shoulder. "There's no sign of any injury to the joint." He looked over at Ecklie. "Ease his arm back down this way, Conrad; I don't think there's any reason to leave it like that."

Grasping Grissom's forearm, Ecklie tried pulling it towards him with little success and, assuming he was caught on something, shifted up towards the workbench for a closer look. "Oh my God!"

"What?" Both Robbins and Sara looked up quickly at the exclamation. "What's wrong?"

"He's nailed to the wood."

"He's what?" Pushing himself off the wall, Greg moved in to see for himself.

"There are nails in his hand." Ecklie's complexion had paled appreciably at the sight. "It's only just started bleeding; I think I tore it when I tried to move his arm."

"Dammit, Gil." Shaking his head, Robbins looked down at his unconscious friend. "You never could do things by half, could you?" Cocking his head, he sighed in relief at the sound of a rapid approaching siren. "Okay, there's nothing we can do about it so just leave it as is."

Glancing back up, he eyed off the three men. "I think you all should move out of here now; when that ambulance pulls up, they're going to need all the room they can get."

"What about Sara?" Warrick asked.

"Sara's doing okay; she's fine for now." Turning to look at the silent woman, Robbins noted that she hadn't even looked up. "Go on, Warrick; you need some fresh air."

Ushering the two CSIs back outside, Ecklie stepped quickly to the side as the large white ambulance, silent now but with it's light bar slowly revolving, slid to a stop just feet from the door. He watched with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity as the two EMTs hurried from the cab to the rear of the vehicle where they quickly collected their equipment before heading inside to their waiting patient.

Turning from the sight, Conrad made his way over to the two shocked men and, after ensuring they were well out of the way of any immediate action, pulled out his cell phone and started to dial.

"Okay folks." Sliding two heavy cases onto the floor by Grissom's side, the first of the paramedics quickly got to work. "What have we got?"

"Fifty year old male, unconscious and unresponsive." Robbins answered automatically. "Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, abdominal wounds and his left hand has been nailed to the timber over there. He was left in here with an idling vehicle-"

Glancing up from his efforts to rouse his patient, the medic stared at the two cars. "The Ford?"

"Yes; no catalytic converter so we're looking at carbon monoxide exposure of approximately ten minutes." Al nodded towards the oxygen cylinder. "I've had him on that for the past five minutes or so; 100% oxygen through a non-rebreather mask."

"Perfect." Sliding the head of his stethoscope over Grissom's chest, the paramedic nodded his approval. "Seems to be breathing adequately for now; I don't think we'll need to intubate him." Sitting back on his heels, he swabbed the blood from his patient's chest before attaching cardiac monitor leads and slipping a pulse oximeter onto his finger. He quickly made note of the readout before looking back up at Robbins. "So, I'm going to guess that you're a doctor."

"Yes." Leaning forward to read the small screen himself, Al nodded his confirmation. "Albert Robbins, Las Vegas Coroner." Lifting a hand, he gestured towards Sara. "And this is Sara, Gil's partner."

"Oh, I've attended enough crime scenes in my time to know who these two are." Seeing Sara's head come up, the medic smiled. "But I don't think we've really met properly, have we? I'm Scott and my partner over there is Roy."

Trundling the stretcher in through the open doorway, Roy made his own quick assessment of the situation before moving in to squat down beside Robbins.

"This was an attack?"

"That's right." Robbins confirmed. "He was working out here alone when it happened and I think, by the looks of things, we're lucky we found him when we did."

"I think you could be right." Gently easing Grissom's hand away from Sara's iron grip, Scott slipped a large bore IV needle effortlessly into a vein. "Do you know if he's on any medications?"

Robbins shrugged. "Sara?"

"Um..." Moving down, out of the medic's way, Sara's hand rested lightly on Grissom's knee as she struggled to think. "Perindopril; his blood pressure was high a couple of months ago so his doctor put him that." She followed Scott's every move as he taped the needle into place. "But, apart form that, he's perfectly healthy."

"Okay, that's fine." Scribbling a quick note, he glanced up as his partner. "You want to take a look at his hand while I deal with his other wounds?

"Yeah, no problem."

Grabbing his own kit, Roy moved closer to the workbench as Scott slipped a cervical collar around Grissom's neck and took the opportunity to run his fingers over the back of his head. "We've got another wound back here; skull seems to be intact but we won't know for sure until he's x-rayed."

Dragging his case closer, he extracted two large gauze pads before glancing over towards the door as two patrol cars skidded to a halt in the lot outside. "The call went out as an officer down so this place is going to be crawling with uniforms of every description in a couple of minutes." Grabbing the roll of tape again, he quickly secured the dressings in place. "Which is just as well for us since we're probably going to end up having to cut your friend here free before we can even think of transporting him."

"How long do you think it'll take?" Sara barely got the question out before a harsh cough tore through her chest and she hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand as all three men looked over in concern.

"You okay?" Repositioning himself nearer Grissom's midsection, Scott lifted the saturated material to get his first look at the abdominal wound.

"Yeah; I've just... I've had a cold... I'll be fine." Struggling to catch her breath, Sara stared outside and watched as Catherine, purse slung over one shoulder and briefcase in hand, came barreling around the corner of the building heading for the open garage only to be restrained by Conrad Ecklie before she got anywhere near it. Breathing easing slightly, she finally managed a deep inhalation and turned back to Scott with an embarrassed smile before rephrasing her question. "Will it take long to get him free?"

"At a guess, I'd say ten to fifteen minutes." Returning to assist his partner, Roy whistled under his breath at the sight of the exposed incision. "There are four nails through his palm and into that workbench support. I've tape his hand and wrist to the wood to make sure that it's completely immobilized but that's all I can do for now. We'll have to leave it up to the Fire Department to cut him free; they're the best guys for that particular job."

A flash of revolving lights caught Robbins eye and, turning, he watched as the large red fire truck, followed closely by a second ambulance rolled to a stop outside.

"And there they are now." Ensuring the large gauze dressing was securely taped down, Scott tossed Warrick's saturated shirt to one side as he got to his feet. "You'll both have to head outside now; it's about to get pretty crowded in here."

"No." Holding tightly to Grissom's leg, Sara shook her head. "I'm staying here; I'm not leaving him alone."

"He won't be alone, Sara." Pushing himself awkwardly to his feet, Al balanced on his crutches before taking a step towards her. "He's in good hands and we'll only get in the way if we stay here so, come on, we'll wait for him outside."

Twisting her hand into the fabric of Grissom's jeans, she defiantly shook her head. "No!"

"Come on, Sara; please." Shifting both crutches to one side, Al held out a hand towards her. "We don't have time for this; _Gil_ doesn't have time for this."

Knowing he was right, she conceded defeat but not before casting a pleading look towards the two paramedics. "Ten minutes?"

"More or less." Dropping the roll of tape back into his kit, Scott gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry; we'll get him out of here as soon as we can."

Taking a deep breath in, she nodded before getting reluctantly to her feet and, after a final longing look at the unconscious man on the floor, turned to meet Al Robbins patient stare.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

The outside of the garage had been transformed – cars, both marked and unmarked, were parked haphazardly around the usually empty lot and groups of people clustered around the front of the garage held back by the crime scene tape that Sam Vega was in the process of stringing protectively around the large structure.

Bending carefully underneath the bright yellow tape, Al Robbins followed as closely as possible behind his charge as she wended her way through the milling crowd towards the small group clustered together beside the back wall of the lab. Watching them as they approached, Robbins was unsurprised, and secretly relieved, when he saw Greg stepping quickly forward to wrap Sara in a tight, supportive hug.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She nodded quickly against his shoulder before stepping back out of the embrace and turning back to stare at the garage. "At least I will be as soon as they get him out of there."

"Sara, come take a seat beside me." Breathing heavily, Warrick patted the ground next to him. "You'll feel better once you're sitting down."

Gaze fixed on the garage, she ignored the suggestion but Robbins frowned at the tall man's grayish complexion. "How are you doing, Warrick?"

"He was feeling nauseous and dizzy so we made him sit back here out of the way." Crouching beside his friend, Nick laid a hand gently on his friend's shoulder as he looked up at the coroner. "He seems to be doing a bit better now."

'Okay." Meeting the Texan's gaze, Robbins cocked his head in Sara's direction. "Keep an eye on things here for a minute, will you Nick? I need to have a word with Conrad."

With a quick authoritative gesture towards both Ecklie and Catherine, Al moved a few yards away, out of earshot of the younger members of Grissom's team.

"Okay, Doc." Taking up a position opposite, Catherine was anxious for news. "How's Gil?"

He's stable for the moment." Leaning heavily on his crutches, Al looked from her worried face to Ecklie's stressed countenance before elaborating further. "He's lost a lot of blood and his vital signs aren't as strong as I'd like them to be but he's maintaining his own airway, so that's a hopeful sign." Dragging a weary hand across his face, he sighed. "I'm going to feel a lot better about things when they get him into that ambulance though."

Nodding his agreement, Ecklie glance over at the other recent arrival. "What about Sidle? She seemed pretty..." He struggled for a description. "..dazed when we were in there with her. Is she okay?"

"She's in shock; that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Neither of them is going to like it but I want both her and Warrick transported as well. They were both inside that building before we got the doors open and both seem to be having slight breathing difficulties so I'd like them checked out at the ER just to be on the safe side."

"Okay." Meeting his stare, Ecklie nodded determinedly. "They can protest all they like but I'll make sure they're going; hell, I'll make it an order if I have too." He turned towards Catherine. "With three of them heading in, I think my place is really going to be at the hospital. I've called in Sheehan and some of his team to process the garage; will you be all right holding the fort here until they arrive?"

"No." Catherine surprised both men when she shook her head. "You can call in whoever you like to cover shift for us but they're not working the garage; that's mine." Turning her head, she stared at her four team mates. "I'll hold Nick back to help me and sent Greg on to the hospital with the others but this is the best chance so far that we've had to get something on this bastard and I am _not_ passing it up."

"You think it's the copycat."

It was a statement not a question and Catherine nodded as she met Ecklie's steady gaze.

"From what I've been told of Grissom's injuries I have no doubt." She turned to Robbins. "You were treating him, Doc; what do you say?"

"A blow to the back of the head followed by an abdominal incision?" Al nodded quickly. "Yeah, I think it's him; the only thing that puzzles me is why he went for Gil in the first place and why he _didn't_ follow the pattern and kill him while he had the chance."

"Who knows how this guy's mind works." Wrapping her arms around herself, Catherine shivered in the cool night air. "Maybe he was disturbed in the middle of it, although I doubt it since he took the time to lock most of the doors before he left." She shrugged. "Perhaps it was a taunt; something along the lines of 'I know who you are but you don't know the first thing about me'" Turning her head towards Robbins, her eyebrows rose in question. "The thing that's worrying me more at the moment is the fact that we know what it is that this guy likes to souvenir; any sign of that with Gil?"

"The cut's certainly large enough and from the looks of it its deep but I'd be surprised if he's missing any organs." Turning at the sound of running feet, Al watched as a young fireman hurried out of the garage and grabbed a power saw from the big truck before rushing back into the now crowded building. "I didn't want to go rummaging around to find out; I think there's probably been enough contamination of the wound already without me contributing to it." Looking back, he shrugged helplessly. "I guess we'll find out for sure when they get him to the hospital."

Glancing over Catherine's shoulder, his gaze fell on Sara and he saw her take a single unsteady step backwards. He desperately called a warning but, at that exact same moment, the power tool roared to life inside the garage and his words were lost in the sharp screech of metal on wood.

Powerless to do anything else, Robbins watched in dismay as her eyes rolled back and she crashed to the ground.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 20**

Trudging along the near empty concourse, Jim Brass smiled wearily as the line of baggage claim carousels finally appeared up ahead.

His trip home from New Jersey had been a seven and a half hour nightmare; seated first of all beside an elderly couple, both of whom had snored their way from Newark to Charlotte and then behind a teething toddler and her stressed out mother on the connecting flight through to McCarran. The only thing he wanted to do now was grab his bag and head home for some much needed sleep.

Checking the small display above each carousel, he quickly identified the one he was after and leaned tiredly against the steel railing as he waited for the first of the flight's luggage to make its way out of the chute and onto the conveyer belt.

With nothing to do but stare at his fellow passengers, his attention wandered to the small television set high up against the far wall and the late night news program that was just wrapping up its latest bulletin. The sound was off but it was clear that the newsreader was running through a quick recap of the day's events in Vegas and, within seconds, Jim's exhaustion was forgotten as a montage of all too familiar images appeared on the screen.

Pushing himself off the barrier, he watched transfixed as a stock shot of the crime lab was followed by aerial footage of the complex at night and a brief glimpse of a stretcher being guided out of the old garage and into a waiting ambulance. That image was quickly replaced by a still photo of Grissom lifted, Jim recognized, from an old press conference before the picture switched again and the anchor was off onto the next story.

The first of the suitcases hit the carousel with a thump but Brass ignored it as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone and, pulling it out, waited impatiently for it to power up. Ignoring the beep that informed him of waiting messages, he dialed quickly as he made his way out of the terminal in search of the nearest cab rank.

He started to speak as soon as the call was answered.

"Cath, it's Jim; what the hell's happened?"

* * *

"There you go." Pressing the last of the steristrips into place, Dr. Peter Dobson stood back and peeled the latex gloves from his hands. "I don't think there'll be any scarring; you'll probably find the bruising along your cheekbone bothers you more than that cut. All in all I think you got off lightly."

Seeing his patient squint against the harsh glare of the examination room's lighting, he pulled the back of the gurney up and helped her into a more comfortable, seated position before turning to check the monitor beside her.

"You're CO levels are dropping nicely and your pulse and blood pressure are almost back to normal." Picking up her chart, he quickly wrote down the figures. "I'd say another fifteen to twenty minutes on that oxygen and we can think about sending you home."

"I'm not going home." Adjusting the plastic mask that covered her nose and mouth, Sara winced as the elastic rubbed against her grazed cheek. "I'm not going anywhere until I know what's happening with Gil." Shifting her gaze to the foot of the gurney, she pleaded with Al Robbins. "Could you go out and see if they're back yet? They took him up for that scan an hour ago."

With a patient sigh, Al checked his watch. "It wasn't an hour, Sara, it was only twenty minutes ago and we'll know soon enough when he's back."

"They could be up there for a while, you know; they'll want to make sure they have as complete a picture as possible of his injuries." Placing a hand on Sara's shoulder, Dobson urged her forward as he lifted his stethoscope. "Let me check your chest again; you still sound a bit congested."

"At least you're looking a lot better now." Shifting uncomfortably on the stool he'd been given, Robbins gave her a reassuring smile. "You scared the hell out of us back there, Sara."

"I'm fine." Worried and frustrated, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I keep telling everyone that; I just wish someone would believe me."

"If you're fine, why did you pass out?"

"Gee, I don't know." Patience worn thin, Sara's tone turned caustic. "I've been off sick for the last couple of days, I spent time in a locked garage with a running motor vehicle _and_ I've just watched the man I love almost bleed out after someone attacked him with a knife; take your pick, Doc, I'm sure any of them could be the cause."

Stepping back from the gurney, Dobson frowned. "Why were you off sick?"

"Nothing major." She assured him. "It was just this cold."

"How long have you had it?"

"A few days." She shrugged. "I'm feeling a lot better now; at least I was before all of this happened."

"Please don't think that I'm prying, Sara." Catching her eye, Robbins looked almost embarrassed. "But, could you possibly be pregnant?"

"No." She gave her head a determined shake. "Definitely not."

"Are you sure?" Robbins' eyebrows rose in question. "Because carbon monoxide affects the fetus as well as the mother so, if you were, they'd have to modify your treatment to take that into account."

"And I understand that but, like I said, I'm not pregnant." Bristling slightly at the coroner's suggestion, Sara pushed herself up straighter against the back of the gurney. "Trust me; I'd be the first one to know if I was."

"Don't bet on it." Al's mouth twitched up in amusement. "My wife was the last one to find out for all three of her pregnancies." Glancing over, he shrugged. "It's a simple biological equation, you know; sometime one and one _can_ make three and you have been sick."

"Yes, but if one and one are smart they use a simple chemical equation to ensure that number three doesn't happen." Lifting her left arm, Sara rubbed her finger over the spot above her elbow. "I have a contraceptive implant, Doc and, I promise you, it's working just fine."

"You sure?" Robbins echoed his earlier query.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Biting back her frustration, Sara turned towards the ER physician. "Look, you want to run a pregnancy test then do it but, I'm telling you now, it's a waste of time."

"We already tested you." Dobson grinned as her eyes widened in surprise. "We did it when you first arrived; you were still a bit out of it when they wheeled you in and, like Dr. Robbins says, it was important that we knew whether we were dealing with one patient or two." He turned towards Al. "It was negative by the way."

"Thank you." Sara briefly returned the physician's smile before turning back to Robbins. "Happy now, Doc?"

"I just wanted to make sure that all the bases had been covered, Sara, okay?" His expression turned sheepish. "I'm sorry; I should have taken your word for it."

"Okay, now that that's settled." Dropping the medical chart onto the bench beside him, Dobson turned his full attention back on his patient. "That cold you had has turned into a chest infection. It was probably that coupled with the exhaust fumes that led to you fainting although, I'm sure the stress you were under at the time was a contributing factor as well. We'll get you started on a course of antibiotics and that should clear it up in about a week." He cast another quick glance at the monitor. "So, while you finish up your final ten minutes on the oxygen, I'll have someone run down and get your prescription filled before we finally cut you loose."

"Where are my clothes?" Sara plucked at the hospital gown she was wearing. "I'm going to need something better than this to put on."

"Everything's been bagged and sent to Trace, Sara." Leaning forward, Robbins adjusted his weight on the small stool. "Same with Gil and Warrick's clothes. They were covered in blood anyway; they wouldn't have done you much good." He shrugged helplessly. "Greg's still out in the waiting room; I can always have him run over to your place and pick up anything you need."

"I can rustle up some scrubs if you'd like." Slipping his pen into the pocket of his white coat, Dobson collected his notes as he prepared to leave. "It'll save your friend a trip."

"I'd appreciate that, Doctor." For the first time in what felt like hours, Sara smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem." Heading for the corridor, he paused in the doorway. "I'll grab a pair and leave them with the nurse; she can bring them in with your prescription."

Sara waited for him to leave before looking back over at Robbins. "Actually, there is something I need Greg to take care of back at the condo, Doc, or, more precisely, _someone_."

She paused as the familiar figure of Conrad Ecklie appeared suddenly in the open doorway.

"So, they're kicking you out already." Slipping the clipboard he held beneath his arm, Ecklie leaned casually against the doorframe.

"In about ten minutes." Sara confirmed before giving him an almost pleading look. "Have you heard anything about Grissom?"

"According to the nurse I spoke to, they'll be bringing him back down any minute now." Moving into the examination room, he stopped beside Al Robbins. "She promised to let me know when we could see him so I said I'd be in here with you; I hope that was alright?"

"That's fine." Lifting her hand, Sara adjusted the oxygen mask again, hoping that the gesture would be enough to conceal her relief at the news.

"Hey, Al." Looking down at Robbins, Ecklie made a gesture over his shoulder towards the corridor behind. "Sanders is wearing a track in the waiting room carpet out there; do you think you could go and see if you can settle him down a bit?"

"Sure; I'm starting to stiffen up here anyway." Pulling his crutches round, Al heaved himself to his feet. "What about Warrick? How's he doing?"

"Brown's fine; he's about to be released as well." Stepping to the side, Ecklie cleared a path for the coroner. "His wife turned up about fifteen minutes ago to take him home but he's refusing to leave until we find out about Grissom's condition so you'll probably be joined by the two of them shortly too."

"The more the merrier." Robbins smiled towards Sara. "I'll just be outside, Sara; if you need me for anything just have one of the nurses come get me."

"I will, Doc." She returned the smile. "Thanks."

The room fell silent after his exit until, with an awkward, almost embarrassed clearing of his throat, Ecklie moved across to take a seat on the recently vacated stool.

"So..." He fidgeted with the clipboard as he looked at the woman he'd come to regard almost as a nemesis. "How's the head?"

"Slight headache, nothing I can't live with though." Sara gently touched her bruised and swollen cheek. "This hurts a lot more."

"I bet it does." He winced in sympathy as he stared at the small strips of white tape that ran across the bone. "And the dizziness?"

"It's gone; I feel fine," She assured him. "I'm ready to go the minute they say I can."

"Well, I was hoping you could help me with something first." Turning the clipboard over, Ecklie held it up for her to see. "They stuck me with Gil's paperwork and, since you probably know him better than I do, I thought you might be willing to give me a hand with it."

"Okay." Taking a deep breath in, Sara nodded her agreement. "I'll help you out with whatever I can."

"Good." Pulling a pen from his pocket, Ecklie scanned the first page. "I know the basics obviously, his name, age and all of that, but I'm sure I heard somewhere that he'd moved recently and one of the things I'm not sure of is his new address." He looked up hopefully. "Do you know it by any chance?"

"Uh... " Taken by surprise on the first question, Sara fumbled for a response. "I think it's somewhere off Lake Mead Boulevard." She pretended to think. "Exeter Road sounds familiar but you'd really have to check his personnel file."

"Exeter Road?" Ecklie nodded slowly as he wrote. "That's not far from my house."

"You moved too?" Sara tried her best to sound casual. "I thought you were out in Henderson."

"I was before my wife decided I was no longer welcome there then, when it finally sank in that she wasn't about to change her mind, I ended up buying a little place on Alto Avenue." He glanced up from the paperwork. "If I'm not mistaken, that's just a couple of miles from Exeter."

"Oh..." Sara nodded slowly at the unexpected piece of information. "Does Grissom know that?"

"I doubt it." Laying his pen down, Ecklie looked over with a smile. "He'd probably have bought somewhere else if he did." "He shrugged. "It's a nice place though; they're just starting to develop out the back there but it's a good neighborhood." He gave her a self-conscious smile. "I took up bike riding again after I first moved in, I hadn't done it for years but the streets around there are perfect for it." Lifting his hand, Ecklie traced a path in the air. "I go along Alto, then turn south onto North Hollywood, take a left at East Carey and ride up past Shadow Rock Park; after that it's a straight run home." His eyes met hers. "Do you know the area at all?"

Suddenly nervous, Sara took a deep breath before answering. "Vaguely."

"Yeah." Ecklie nodded; a slow grin forming as he held Sara gaze. "Shadow Rock's a great place; there's a big dog park right in the middle of it and I see Gil there quite often when I'm riding past. It's kind of hard to tell from a distance but I'm pretty sure it's a Boxer he has with him when he's there."

Unable to look away, Sara remained silent as she fiddled with the oxygen mask's plastic tubing

"He has a woman with him sometimes too; it's been very... interesting watching the pair of them together." There was now no mistaking the message the Assistant Lab Director was sending and Sara's felt the breath catch in her throat. "Maybe you'll recognize her description: tall, mid thirties, wavy brown hair-"

"How long have you known?" It came out almost as a whisper.

With a smile of satisfaction, Ecklie chuckled. "Four or five months."

"Four or five months?" Sara gasped at the information. "But you never said anything."

"Oh, I've been tempted, believe me." Placing the now abandoned paperwork on the edge of the gurney, Conrad happily watched the shocked CSI. "I thought all my Christmases had come at once when I first saw the two of you at that park but, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much _I _had to lose."

"You?" Staring in confusion, Sara frowned. "You had nothing to lose; you've wanted rid of us for as long as I can remember."

"True but look at it from my point of view; I might..." Ecklie quickly corrected himself. "No, I _would_ get a great deal of enjoyment, not to mention satisfaction, in 'outing' the pair of you to the Sheriff but what would happen then? One or both of you would probably be fired so the lab would be down two CSIs, one of whom is a well-respected, prominent entomologist who would be snapped up in an instant by any of the other labs in the country and, in the meantime, our lab's reputation would be shot to hell." Shoulders rising, Ecklie gave a resigned sigh. "In the end I decided to follow the military's lead - don't ask, don't tell."

Sara stared at him in disbelief. "And you can live with that?" '

"It's worked for four months so far." He pointed out. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning your affair; hell, if I could see a way around things, I'd have both of you up in front of the sheriff in an instant but -"

"It's not an affair!"

"No, I guess it's not." Ecklie conceded the point with a smile. "Gil's not really the type for a meaningless fumble with a coworker, is he? Especially someone under his supervision."

"No, he's not and neither am I." Crossing her arms across her chest, Sara stared defiantly at the Assistant Director. "I know exactly what you think of me, Ecklie and, to be honest, I don't give a damn but I won't sit here and let you turn our relationship into something cheap and tawdry; it's not like that; it never was."

"Okay." He raised both hands in surrender. "I apologize, all right? I didn't mean to infer anything." He paused for a moment unsure of how to word his next sentence. "I actually worked out a while ago that it wasn't just a fling which is why I decided, in light of tonight's events, to let you know that I am aware of what's going on."

"Why though?" Sara shook her head, confused. "That's what I don't understand; you've known all these months and you choose tonight to confront me with it."

"I'm not confronting you." Taking a deep breath, Ecklie tried to explain himself. "Look, I've never had a reason to bring this up before because, as far as I know, you've both been very careful to keep your relationship out of the lab." He chuckled. "Hell, the performance reviews Gil's done on you over the past year have probably been the most through of anyone on your team so he's certainly not showing you any favoritism." Looking over he was pleased to see a small smile on Sara's lips. "But now, he's going to need time off work and, naturally, you're going to want to be with him and I just thought it'd be easier on all of us if we could acknowledge the fact that your little secret isn't exactly a secret anymore."

"Um... thank you." Surprised, Sara took a moment to let his words sink in. "I'm really not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything; in fact, it's probably better that you don't." Picking up the clipboard again, he balanced it on his knee. "I'll help you out with the time off and anything else I can but only on the condition that no one at the lab finds out that I know; I have my position to protect as well, remember, and if it became public knowledge that I knew about this and did nothing..." He shrugged. "Let's just say that I'd find it a little more difficult to walk into another job than Grissom would."

"Sara?"

Both heads turned as Jim Brass all but barreled through the open door of the examination room.

Quickly skirting Ecklie, he was beside her in moments.

"God, I'd just stepped off the plane when I saw the news." Pulling his somewhat bemused friend towards him, Jim enveloped her in a hug. "I called Catherine then I came straight here."

Releasing her again, he placed a hand on either side of Sara's face as he examined her wounds. "Are you all right? That looks sore."

"I'm fine, it's nothing." Twisting out of his grip, she straightened the mask on her face before looking up at him. "It's not me we have to worry about anyway, it's Gil." The fear and worry in his eyes finally broke through the facade and Sara's breath hitched as she spoke. "Oh God, Jim, there was so much blood!"

"I know, Cath told me all about it." Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he gave her a comforting squeeze. "How is he, Sara; have you heard?"

Unable to answer, Sara shook her head and it was left to Ecklie to fill him in.

"They took him up for a CT scan about half an hour ago; we haven't heard anything yet but they should be back soon."

"Ms. Sidle?" A hand rapped on the doorframe and looking up, Sara stared at the white-coated figure standing in the entry, a folded pair of scrubs in one hand and a medical file in the other. "My name's Dr. Meyer; I've been treating Dr. Grissom since he arrived." Entering the room, the physician glanced curiously at the two men before coming to a stop at the foot of the gurney. "I've been told you're his next of kin."

"She's his partner." Getting to his feet, Ecklie cast a quick self-conscious glance in Sara's direction before addressing the doctor. "How is he, Doctor?"

"At the moment, he's stable." Ignoring Conrad, Meyer directed his answer towards Sara. "We've just brought him back down from the scanner and we'll be keeping him here down here until the carbon monoxide levels in his blood have improved enough for him to go up to the OR." He glanced at his watch. "At a guess, that should be about half an hour from now."

Her composure returning, Sara found her voice. "Is he conscious?"

"No, not yet but he has begun reacting to stimulation so that's a promising sign." He gave her a quick smile. "I've had a word with Dr. Dobson and, if you're ready, I can take you through to see him and we can discuss his injuries and what'll be happening when he goes into surgery."

"Can someone come with me?" Nerves suddenly kicked in and Sara's eyes shot towards Brass. "Jim? Please?"

"Of course." Reaching across, he laid a reassuring hand on her back. "That'll be okay, Doc, right?"

"That'll be fine." As if suddenly remembering what he held, Meyer placed the scrubs down on the gurney. "Apparently, these are for you so, while you get changed, I'll run this chart down to the nurses station and be back to get you in a couple of minutes."

The doctor had barely cleared the doorway before Sara was in motion.

"Could you help me down, Jim?"

Slipping the oxygen mask over her head, she left it lying on the gurney as Jim helped her off the gurney. She stood uncertainly, one hand on the trolley and the other clamped tightly to Jim's shoulder until she was sure she was able to take her own weight then, taking a few cautious steps, she grabbed hold of the privacy curtain and tugged it around the bed.

Realizing that he was no longer needed, Ecklie picked up the clipboard and prepared to leave.

"I'm going to head out and wait with the others." He directed the comment to the curtain before turning to look at Brass. "Let us know what's going on as soon as you can, okay?"

"I'll be out as soon as we've seen him." Jim promised. "Do me a favor and give Catherine a call; she and Nick are dying for news."

"Will do." With a curt nod, Conrad headed for the door only to stop as Sara spoke from behind the curtain.

"Ecklie?" Holding the material securely in place, Sara poked her head around the edge. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"What for?" Staring across the room at her, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "A conversation that never took place?" Ecklie shook his head. "You've got nothing to thank me for just..." He paused and a half smile played around his lips. "Just remember the rules, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, he left and Jim turned to Sara with a frown.

"Rules?"

"Don't worry about it." Stepping back behind the curtain, Sara quickly finished pulling on the borrowed scrubs. "Let's just say that maybe Conrad Ecklie isn't quite the bad guy that I thought he was."

"Wow." Jim eyes widened in surprise at her words. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought; you sure they checked you out properly?"

"Ready, Ms Sidle?"

Stepping out from behind the curtain, Sara nodded once at the waiting physician and, pausing, took a deep breath as a sudden wave of nervousness swept through her.

"Come on, Sara." Seeing her apprehension, Jim moved forward with an encouraging smile. "Let's go see that man of yours."

TBC

**A/N: **A very big thank you to csiKathy for the all the advice and assistance she has given me during the research and writing of this particular part of the storyline; I know I've said it countless times but your efforts were, and still are, very much appreciated.


	21. Chapter 21

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 21**

"Oh, shit!"

Coming to a halt at the foot of the gurney, Brass felt Sara's hand tense slightly in his at the exclamation and he hurried to explain the expletive.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Looking along the trolley at his motionless friend, Jim shrugged helplessly. "I guess I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was."

Grissom was still unconscious. The cervical collar had been removed and, with his head tipped slightly towards the left, a line of surgical staples was visible running in an arc behind his right ear. An oxygen mask obscured most of his lower face but below it, Jim could just make out a darkened line of bruises that seemed to run from the gash, below his ear and down along his jaw line.

A sheet and light cellular blanket covered his abdomen and lower body whilst his chest remained bare except for the strategically placed electrodes and leads that connected him to the bank of monitors behind the gurney.

Two plastic IV bags, one containing a clear liquid and the other, unmistakably blood, hung next to the gurney, their plastic tubing running down to connect with the peripheral IV that had been inserted into Grissom's right forearm. His hand lay beside him, a carboxyhemoglobin saturation monitor clipped to one finger and the more familiar pulse oximeter clipped to another.

His left arm was held out on a board away from the gurney itself. A splint, taped securely at the wrist and just below the elbow, ran down the inside of his lower arm helping to keep the limb immobile, whilst his hand, fingers slightly arched around a thick, blood soaked gauze pad was sandwiched between the splint and the eight inch long piece of 4 by 4 that had been cut from the leg of the workbench.

"Jesus!" Bending slightly to get a closer look at the timber, Jim had to struggle to bite back yet another oath as he counted the four pointed tips of the nails that penetrated both the wood and his friend's hand. "Those things are what: six inches long?"

"About that." Moving over to the monitors, Meyer scanned the displayed information before turning back and taking in the pale, shocked faces in front of him. "I know all of this looks kind of daunting but, actually, Dr. Grissom's doing really well."

"You're sure?" Her attention still fixed on Grissom, Sara spoke without looking up.

"I'm positive." Meyer gave them both a reassuring smile. "He's breathing well, his pulse is more or less back to normal and, although his blood pressure is still a little on the low side, it's considerably better than it was when they wheeled him in here."

"Well, if this better..." Standing upright again, Brass ran a hand over his mouth as he exhaled loudly. "I'm _so_ glad I didn't see him at the scene."

"I did see him there, Jim." Pulling her hand free of his hold, Sara finally edged closer to the bed. "And Dr. Meyer's right; he looks a lot better now."

Desperate for contact but wary of causing any additional pain, her hand hovered uncertainly for a moment before she looked to the doctor for instruction. "Is it okay if I touch him?"

"Of course it is." Standing at the foot of the gurney, Meyer gave her an encouraging nod. "His left hand is out of bounds but you can hold his right one if you like. Give his fingers a squeeze and he'll probably answer you back; that's what he was doing a little while ago."

Following the physician's directions, Sara slipped her hand around Grissom's lax one and was taken by surprise when, at the lightest touch, his fingers flexed slightly before curling loosely around her own.

"There you go." Moving up beside her, Jim laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "He must know it's you, Sara; he's not letting go."

"He's not, is he?" Careful not to break the hold Grissom had on her, she wove her fingers through his and leaned in close, hoping he could hear her. "I'm here, baby, I've got you."

His reply was another faint squeeze and, Sara smiled at the doctor in relief. "He long until he's conscious?"

"That's entirely up to him." Picking up Grissom's chart, Meyer checked his notes. "It's been the combination of head injury and carbon monoxide that's kept him out so long but, now that his CO levels are almost back to normal, he could wake up at any time." His shoulders rose in a shrug. "Don't be too surprised if it doesn't happen until after the surgery though." He gestured towards their clasped hands. "He's found a way to let us know he's in there and aware of what's happening; that's good enough for now."

"What are his injuries, Doctor?" Jim gestured helplessly towards his friend's left hand. "Apart from the obvious, that is."

"Well, we'll start from the top and work down, shall we?" Leaving the chart on the counter Meyer moved to the opposite side of the gurney. "He sustained two blows to the head; one just behind the right ear and a second about an inch and half further away." Reaching back, he demonstrated both sites on his own head. "Luckily for him, that second one was more of a glancing blow; had it connected with the same force as the first one, Dr, Grissom would not be with us now."

Jim automatically slipped into detective mode. "Any idea as to what he was hit with?"

"Not really, it could have been anything." Meyer shrugged. "Both blows did break the skin though and the one nearest his ear also fractured the skull." Seeing both heads come up at his words, the doctor hurried to set their minds at rest. "It's a hairline fracture, that's all; we'll certainly be keeping an eye on it but I don't think it's going to cause him any real problems."

Watching Sara carefully, Meyer could see that she wasn't quite convinced.

"Honestly, Ms. Sidle, it's a simple linear fracture, that's all. The CT scan showed some minor contusions to the brain itself but nothing more than that; he's going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up but that'll pass in a couple of days and he'll be just fine."

"Okay." Finally accepting the doctor's words, Sara reached over and ran her hand gently over Grissom's hair. "A headache we can deal with; what about the rest?"

"Well, next would be the abdominal wound." Drawing the sheet down slightly, Meyer exposed the first few inches of the large dressing that covered the gash. "The incision is extensive, we did a rough measurement and it came in at around twenty-two inches long but, from what we can see, there's little if any muscle involvement and absolutely no penetration of the abdominal cavity itself. The surgeons will clean it all out and check that everything's as it should be but, from the looks of it, it's just going to be a matter of suturing him back up again."

"So he's not missing anything?" Brass butted in anxiously. "His kidneys, liver...all of that stuff; you're positive it's all still there?"

"Ah... yes." Surprised by the unexpected question, Meyer offered him a bemused smile. "As I said, the abdominal cavity is intact and all of Dr. Grissom's organs are present and accounted for."

"Thank God for that." Dropping his head, Jim exhaled heavily as relief flood through him; Catherine had mentioned the possibility of 'souveniring' over the phone and the prospect had weighed heavily ever since. Lifting his head again, he turned to Sara with a grin. "He's going to fine, Sara; after all of that, he's going to be fine."

"Hang on." Aware that the physician hadn't quite finished with his report, she looked over, one eyebrow arching in question. "And his hand?"

"That's not quite as straight forward as his other two injuries." Moving to the wall, Meyer switched on the lightbox, illuminating an x-ray of Grissom's left hand, the four nails standing out starkly against the surrounding bones. "As you can see from this, two of the nails have gone through his palm cleanly." Glancing back, he smiled. "That's one of the funny things about nail gun injuries – most of the time, you end up with nothing more than a glorified flesh wound."

"You're sure it was a nail gun that did it?" Sara frowned. "They couldn't have just been hammered in by hand?"

"I doubt it." Meyer shook his head as he replied. "We tend to get one or two of these types of injuries a week: worksite accidents, home renovators, that sort of thing and, looking at Dr. Grissom's hand, it has all the hallmarks of a nail gun."

"And the other two nails?" Jim asked.

"They hit bone." Using his pen, Meyer pointed out the two fractured metacarpals. "Which wouldn't ordinarily be too big of a problem but they also managed to sever both flexor tendons as well."

Moving closer to the image, Jim studied the x-ray. "Which means what exactly?"

"That unless a surgeon goes in there and reconnects the two severed ends, Dr. Grissom will basically lose the use of his middle and ring fingers on that hand; he wouldn't be able to bend them at all, they would effectively be useless."

"So, that's what they're going to do now, right?"

"That's the plan." Meyer's nodded. "The longer the repair is left, the harder it becomes to get those ends to reattach so what the surgeons intend to do is to close up the abdomen and then move straight on to the hand."

"And after the surgery?" Sara quickly glanced down at the splinted hand before her eyes returned to the doctor. "Will he regain full use of his hand?"

"That... is something we can't predict; in fact, we probably won't know one way or the other for six months or so." The doctor took a deep breath as he met Sara's level gaze. "He's got a long road ahead of him and this is only the first step but we're going to do everything we can help him along the way."

Jim nodded his agreement. "How long will it take?"

"The surgery? That would depend on the complexity of the reattachment and whether or not the surgeon decides to pin those fractures while he's in there." Looking back at the x-ray, Meyer shrugged. "Looking at them, I imagine he probably will so, at a guess, I'd say two or three hours."

Flicking the off switch for the light box, Meyer was in the process of turning when his beeper sounded and, pulling it from his waistband, he read the small screen.

"That's the OR wanting an update." He quickly scanned the monitors and smiled at the readings. "His levels are looking good so I think we'll send him up now; if you'll excuse me, I'll just go and get the ball rolling."

"Well, that's a relief anyway." Turning quickly towards Sara, Jim smiled. "I gotta tell you, Sara; when we walked in here and saw him like that..." He let the sentence hang, afraid to voice what his first impressions had actually been and instead dropped a gentle hand on his old friend's shoulder. "You're a lucky man, Gil Grissom; I just hope to God you know that."

"He knows." Sara smiled as the fingers she held twitched slightly before regaining their hold. "You want to head out to the waiting room, Jim? Let everyone else know how he is; they're probably climbing the walls by now."

"Yeah, I can do that." Realizing that she was after a moment alone before the medical team returned to wheel Grissom upstairs, Jim headed for the door. "You'll be okay while I'm gone though, right? I'll only be five minutes."

"I'll be fine, Jim." Looking over, she grinned. "Now that I've seen him and know what's going on, I'm going to be fine." Glancing down again, Sara tightened her hold on Grissom's hand. "In fact, we both will."

TBC

**A/N:** Thanks again to csiKathy for her help; any and all 'fudging' on the medical front in this story is entirely down to me and a quick apology to "Snow White" – tempting though it was to go the banana bread route I think that's one particular plot twist I'll leave in your more than capable hands. ;)

Thanks for reading.


	22. Chapter 22

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 22**

Making her way back to the garage across the now near-empty parking area, Catherine raised her hand in acknowledgement towards the uniformed officer stationed at the perimeter gate then managed a quick smile for his partner guarding the structure itself before ducking underneath the yellow tape and heading into the heart of the crime scene.

"I'm sorry, Nick, I didn't mean to take so long." Balancing one of the two water bottles she carried down on the hood of Sara's Prius, she cracked the top off the remaining bottle and took a quick swig. "I got caught up with telephone calls."

"I hope at least one them was from the hospital." Running his finger along the top of the small plastic bag in his hand, Nick ensured it was securely sealed before turning it over to fill in the evidence label. "It's been over four hours since we last heard something; I thought they'd have let us how he was by now."

"As a matter of fact, Ecklie was the last person I spoke to." Looking down, Catherine felt an involuntary shiver run through her at the sight of the large, dark red stain that stood out starkly against the light gray cement. "The surgery's over and Grissom's fine; they're moving him to a room now."

"Well, that's good news." Coming to stand beside her, Nick exhaled heavily as his gaze followed hers. "Man, I'll never forget the sight of him lying there like that."

"Now that it's all over with, I'm glad Conrad kept me back." Turning, Catherine picked up the second bottle and handed it across. "Just hearing about it was bad enough; I can live without the pictures." She watched as Nick opened the bottle and quickly drained half the contents, the look of worry and helplessness on his face one she'd seen a lot around the lab in the past few hours. "Thanks for sticking around, Nick, I know you'd prefer to be over at the hospital with everyone else but this place needed processing and I wasn't willing to trust it to anyone else."

"That's okay, Cath." Nick quickly shook his head. "To be honest, I think I'd rather have kept busy anyway."

"In that case, let's get back to work." Screwing the cap back on her drink, she placed it on the car. "What's left to do?"

"Nothing really." Finishing off the last of his water, Nick casually tossed the empty bottle besides Catherine's. "I've dusted the Mustang, both inside and out; it's covered in prints but I'm going to guess most of them belong to Grissom and Greg."

"Well, at least it'll be easy enough to eliminate them." She paused as a thought occurred to her. "I better remember to fingerprint Elaine too; considering the car was stored in her garage for a couple of months, she's sure to have touched it as well."

"Does she know what happened tonight?"

"Yeah, I gave her a call just after the ambulance left." Catherine nodded. "When Greg told me about her trying to get through to Grissom earlier, I thought she might still be waiting for his call." She sighed. "I managed to talk her out of going to the hospital tonight but I'd like to bet to she's there first thing in the morning."

'Speaking of phone calls, I found Grissom's cell on the floor by the workbench." Moving around the big car, Nick lifted an evidence bag from the floor beside his kit. "I checked the call log before I bagged it and the last call Griss made was at 9:21."

"That'll be when he spoke to Elaine."

"It was; I double-checked the number. That call was disconnected at 9:27 then twelve minutes later, Elaine called him back but didn't get an answer; all up, she tried four times without success."

Catherine's gaze drifted once again to the stained floor. "Guess we know why?"

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "But there was another unanswered call during that time too. According to the log, it's from an unknown number; I tried calling it on my phone but now it's switched off and it's not going voicemail."

"It might be something but, then again, it might not." Catherine shrugged. "Archie should be able to track the number down easily enough; we'll get him started on it and see what he turns up."

"What's he working on just now?"

"He's going through tonight's security videos; there are only two cameras in this part of the lot but hopefully they've picked up something. Wilson's busy processing the clothes Conrad sent back from the hospital for trace; Wendy's testing all the swabs we took from here earlier and..." She nodded towards the small mountain of print cards Nick had collected. "As soon as that lot's been logged, Mandy can start running them through AFIS and we'll see what, or more precisely, _who_ pops up." Catherine swept her eyes around the big garage before looking once again at Nick. "So, is that about it?"

"Not quite." Nick leant back against the Mustang as he met her stare. "I went through all the keys on Griss's key ring and it looks like the one for this place is missing."

"Well, that's probably understandable; the guy had to lock the doors somehow." Catherine shrugged. "I'll let Conrad know he's going to have to change the locks."

"We're missing a nail gun too." Nick added. "No prizes for guessing what that was used for." Reaching into his vest pocket, he extracted the plastic bag he'd been busy with when Catherine arrived and held it up for her to see. "And, last but not least..." He handed it across. "What does that look like to you?"

"Well, it doesn't look like anything you'd use to fix a car." Holding the bag up high, Catherine watched as the light glinted off the dull metallic pellets inside. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, that's lead shot."

Nick nodded his agreement. "I'm going to run it passed Bobby Dawson of course but that's what I think it is too."

"It's pretty heavy." With a frown, she weighed the bag in one hand. "How many pellets have you found?"

"I stopped counting at fifty."

"This place was never used for weapons, was it?"

"No." Nick shook his head. "I've checked and it was only ever used for vehicle examinations. He cocked his head towards the bag. "I found those on the ground and _underneath_ the Mustang right near the driver's door; from the looks of things, that's where this whole thing kicked off."

"All right." Catherine idly rubbed her chin as she ran through the possibilities. "We've got plenty of lead shot but no shotgun and no shotgun shells." Her shoulders rose in a shrug. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

Nick couldn't hide the self-satisfied grin that appeared on his face as he voiced his conclusion. "It does if our guy's using a sap to incapacitate his victims."

"A sap?"

"Sap, blackjack, cosh, whatever you want to call it; they're small, easily concealed and, if you know what you're doing with one you can knock a person out before they know what has, literally, hit them. We knew from the autopsies that the head wounds were the first injuries inflicted on the victims we just didn't know what was causing them." Nick gave a resolute nod towards the bag in Catherine's hand. "Now I think we do."

"Okay." Satisfied with his reasoning, Catherine hefted the small bag again. "What does this get us though? They're too small to fingerprint; are we going to be able to trace these pellets?"

"I don't know." Nick admitted. "That's something else we're going to have to discuss with Bobby; if anyone around here knows, he will."

"So, we're finished out here now?"

"Yep." Nick nodded before stooping to close up his kit. "I think we've got everything we can from this place for now."

"Good." Stepping past him, Catherine quickly gathered up the assortment of bags and bindles as her colleague hefted his bag and prepared to leave. "Let's get this lot logged in and then we'll see what the techs can tell us."

* * *

He woke to the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the sound of hushed voices and a dull, persistent ache that seemed to encompass his entire body.

Opening his eyes, Grissom quickly slammed them shut again as the bright morning light, filtering in through the room's open blind, hit the back of his retinas and turned that ache into a raging pain.

Fighting back a sudden wave of pain induced nausea, he heard the hurried scrape of chair legs on the vinyl floor and footsteps as a familiar voice spoke softly, it's owner crossing from one side of the room to the other.

"Hang on, Gil, let me get that window; we'll see if we can make things a little more comfortable for you."

He listened to the sounds of the blind being closed, the clinking of the metallic slats seeming unnaturally loud to his over-sensitized hearing then the footsteps returned and a cool, hand landed lightly on his shoulder.

"There you go, buddy, try it now."

Grissom followed the suggestion cautiously, squinting warily through partly opened lids until he was sure the light level was low enough that he could avoid another assault.

"Hey." Watching from his position at the bedside, Jim Brass smiled down at his old friend. "It's good to have you back with us; how do you feel?"

"I'm not sure." Grissom closed his eyes again and tried to take stock of his condition. "Sore, I guess." Lifting his right hand, he pressed his fingers to a spot just above his eye. "Where's Sara?"

"She's here; she just went out to grab a quick coffee." Jim gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "Don't worry buddy, she'll be back in a minute."

Grissom nodded his understanding, a move that was quickly curtailed as the staples in the back of his head rubbed painfully against the pillow. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"Dr. Grissom?"

Opening his eyes again, Grissom turned his head carefully as the white coated figure on the other side of the bed stepped into view. "My name's Dr. Rodgers, I explained to you what happened about an hour ago when you woke up in the recovery room; don't you remember that?"

"Vaguely." Grissom's brow furrowed as he struggled to think. "Something about a car." His eyes widened slightly before swinging back towards Brass. "Is the Mercedes okay?"

"As far as I know, the Merc is fine." Jim chuckled briefly before sobering once again. "You were working in the garage at the back of the lab when you were attacked, Gil, that's what happened to you."

Pushing himself up slightly at the words, Grissom groaned as the sudden movement pulled at the sutures in his abdomen and Rodgers quickly pressed him back towards the pillow.

"It might be best if you try and stay as still as possible for now, okay? We don't want you undoing any of our good work." He nodded towards the far side of the bed. "How does your hand feel?"

"That's about the only thing that doesn't hurt" Lifting his arm from the pillows that supported it, Grissom stared at the plaster slab and heavy bandaging that now encompassed his hand. "It's numb."

"That's all right; you'll feel it soon enough" The surgeon assured him. "We'll give the fractures a couple of days to settle down then we'll be swapping those dressings for a splint; you'll be wishing it was numb again once the physical therapists get a hold of you."

Ignoring the doctor, Grissom looked once again at Brass. "Who did it?"

"Well." Jim wavered for a second before deciding to tell him the truth. "General consensus seems to be that you just had a visit from our friendly neighborhood copycat."

"The case we're working on now?" Confusion rising, Grissom frowned as he tried to make sense of what he just been told. "Why? Why come after me? And why am I still alive?"

"Why's not important." Hearing the agitation in his voice, Sara spoke from the open doorway. "The only thing that matters now is that you _are_ alive and you're going to be okay." Stepping into the room properly, she was at the bedside in seconds. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake." Pushing past the surgeon, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Grissom's forehead. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"

"I'm sorry." Calmed by her presence, Grissom's eyes narrowed at the sight of her bruised and swollen cheekbone and his hand rose, jerky and uncoordinated, towards it as his forehead furrowed in concern. "What happened to your face?"

"My face is fine, it's just a scratch." Sara sucked in a breath as his finger ghosted over the abraded flesh then, taking hold of his hand, she wove her fingers through his. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." He blinked, heavy-lidded, as he stared into her eyes. "I just feel tired."

"I know, baby." Hoping it would relax him, Sara ran her fingers lightly through his hair being careful to stay well away from the stapled areas. "There'll be plenty of time for questions and answers later but, right now, I think you need to get some more rest."

"But I don't remember any of it, honey." Lulled by her caress, Grissom's voice started to thicken as his body relaxed against the bed. "I need to know what happened."

"Later." Sweeping her fingers down across his forehead, Sara watched as his eyes began to close. "Now it's time to sleep."

"I know you don't remember the actual attack, Dr. Grissom but can you tell me what you _do_ remember?" Ignoring Sara's indignant stare, Rodgers pressed for more information. "What's the last clear memory that you have?"

"Amy." The name came out as a slow drawl as Grissom, on the edge of slumber, responded automatically to the physician's question. "I remember... Amy."

Moments later, the fingers in Sara's hand slackened as sleep reclaimed him and, after placing his hand gently on the bed by his side, she lifted her gaze only to be met by the curious stare of Jim Brass.

"Amy?" One eyebrows rose in question.

Giving him a quick, dismissive shake of her head, Sara turned to face the doctor. "The conversation he's talking about occurred almost twenty-four hours ago; he's missing an entire day."

"Retrograde amnesia." Leaning against the side of the bed, Rogers gave her a reassuring smile. "It's not all that uncommon in head injury cases; in one way Dr. Grissom's lucky, I've had patients that haven't been able to remember anything that happened for _weeks _before their accidents."

"Will it come back?" Brass glanced down at the sleeping man before looking back to the doctor. "Will he eventually remember what happened in those missing hours?"

"That's anyone's guess." Rogers breathed in deeply as he pondered the question. "The odds are that he will but, in my experience, they almost never regain all of it; he'll probably get bits and pieces of it back but there's no way of predicting just how much of that missing time he's going to be able to remember."

"But he's going to okay, right?"

"Yes; he's awake, he's talking and, despite the understandable confusion, he seems to be neurologically sound." Rodgers smiled at the obvious relief his words brought the two people in front of him. "I think, with enough rest and, in the case of that hand, a lot of hard work, it's safe to say that Dr. Grissom will be just fine."

* * *

"How'd it go?" Sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, Catherine pushed the report she'd been reading away from her as Nick entered the break room; the set of his shoulders answering the question for her as he dropped dejectedly into a chair on the opposite side of the large table.

"It didn't." Pulling open the file he'd carried in with him, he glared at the top most sheet of paper. "Bobby confirmed that the pellets I found are lead shot, Number 10 Chilled to be precise but, according to him, it's going to be impossible to find out where they came from."

"That's helpful." Catherine commented sarcastically. "We can track almost everything else; why does he think that's going to be so hard?"

"Apparently, the make up of each pellet is identical across the board." He checked his notes. "Ninety-eight percent lead to two percent antimony and, with no identifying marks to go by, tracing the manufacturer would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack." He sighed. "Discovering where the stuff was bought is going to be equally as hard; according to Bobby, the dealers buy the stuff in bulk from whichever manufacturer gives them the best price and then divide it into smaller bags to sell on to their customers; any one ten pound bag could contain shot from a couple of different sources."

"Well it was worth a try." Lifting her hand, Catherine quickly stifled a yawn. "I don't know about you Nick but I'm about ready to call it a-"

"Catherine?" Leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, Mandy smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt; I can come back if you're busy."

"No, Mandy, that's all right." Waving the print tech into the room, she gestured towards the nearest chair. "How are you going with those prints?"

"That's what I'm here about actually." Taking a seat, the younger woman fiddled awkwardly with the papers in her hands as she looked from one CSI to the other. "I haven't run them all through yet but we've had some hits back already and I thought you might be interested in the results."

"Of course." Pushing himself upright in his chair, Nick looked on with interest. "What have you got?"

"The compliance database kicked out five hits almost straight away." Mandy glanced in Catherine's direction. "Everyone from your team except you, Catherine; I guess you're not that interested in classic cars."

"Hey, show me the end product and I'm impressed but as far as works in progress are concerned..." With a grin, Catherine gave an unapologetic shrug. "It's just a pile of forty year old rusting metal."

"But you didn't come here to tell us that we'd touched the Mustang, did you Mandy?"

"No, no I didn't." Holding up a print out of a LVPD booking photo, Mandy turned it for the others to see. "AFIS also spat out this guy – Ross Martin, his last known address is in Whitney."

"Not too far away." Taking the picture from her, Catherine examined it closely. "I don't think I've ever come across him before." She slid the paper across the table. "What about you, Nick? You ever see Mr. Martin in your travels?"

"Nope." Staring at the photo, Nick shook his head. "Can't say that I have." He looked up at Mandy. "What's he in the system for?"

"Well, that's the really interesting part." Handing the rest of the police report to Catherine, Mandy couldn't disguise the satisfied smile that lit up her face. "According to that, Ross Martin attacked a prostitute with a knife."

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 23**

**

* * *

**

A/N:

I am so sorry! I came back from my fortnight's break only to discover that my brain had apparently died while I was gone. I'd sit down determined to get this finished only to find that I was incapable of stringing three words together never mind three thousand of the damn things but I seem to have worked through it now so it should be full steam ahead from here on out. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

Shifting forward in the hard plastic chair, Elaine Grogan watched as the still fingers she'd spent the past hour holding twitched slightly before curling reflexively around her own.

Squeezing back lightly in response, she made every effort possible to maintain the contact as she pushed up out of her seat and smiled broadly in welcome as Grissom's eyes fluttered open.

"Hello again." Noting the flash of confusion on his face, she hurried to reassure him. "You're in the hospital, remember? You were working on the car when someone-"

"Yeah, I remember." Pulling his hand free, he rubbed at his eyes. "How long was I asleep this time?"

"Two hours give or take; it's just past noon." Taking her seat again, Elaine watched him with concern. "How do you feel now, Gil?"

"Better I think." Blinking in the room's half-light, he managed a slight smile. "My head feels clearer and the pain's not as intense as it was before." Lifting his right arm, he stared at the IV cannula. "I guess the painkiller in this thing's working, huh?"

"Luckily for you." Satisfied that he was all right, Elaine eased back in the chair. "You've got antibiotics in there too; they're worried about the risk of infection in that hand of yours but, overall, your doctor seems very happy with the way everything went." Reaching across, she laid her hand lightly on his forearm. "You were lucky, Gil; it could have been a lot worse."

"So I've been told." Looking around the rest of the room, Grissom winced in discomfort as he turned his head on the pillow. "Did Sara go home?"

"Oh no, she's still here; I tried to convince her that a few hours rest at home would do her the world of good but she insisted she was fine." Elaine smiled as a hint of amusement entered her voice. "And the next thing I know, she's sound asleep in the chair with her head on the bed beside your hip and her arm locked around your leg; I don't think I could have pried her loose if I'd tried." She nodded towards the door. ""She's grabbing a quick shower down the hall; she only woke up herself ten minutes ago"

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine." Elaine assured him. "Almost as battered and bruised as you are but she seems to be okay. I was hoping to talk her into heading downstairs for some fresh air and something to eat but I'm not sure how well that suggestion going to be received." She shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure when she last ate but I'd like to bet it wasn't recently."

"No. it probably wasn't." Knowing only too well how single-minded Sara could be, Grissom could only agree. "How about I suggest it to her when she comes back in; maybe I'll have more luck." He glanced towards the door. "Anyone else still about?"

"No, they've all gone home. Nick was here a little while ago but he didn't stay for long; when he saw you were both asleep he decided not to wait." Elaine chose not to mention the bemused look on the Texan's face when he discovered his two sleeping colleagues or the knowing wink he gave her before quietly backing out of the room. "He did say that Catherine planned on stopping by on her way home though so I imagine she'll be here shortly." She frowned at her watch. "She's working very late."

"Probably waiting for results to come in." Lifting his hand, Grissom smothered a yawn. "Sara told me earlier that Cath demanded to process the scene."

At the mention of the garage, Elaine was instantly contrite. "I'm so sorry, Gil; if I'd realized the trouble that car was going to bring-"

"It was hardly the Mustang's fault, you know." All too aware of the staples in his scalp, Grissom turned his head slowly towards her. "It was a deliberate attack on _me_, Elaine; if it hadn't happened while I was working on the car, it no doubt would have happened somewhere else." He managed a slight shrug. "And I might not have been the only victim then."

"I know it's silly but I can't help feeling responsible." She sighed heavily. "If only-"

"Don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" Reaching across, Grissom took her hand again. "I don't blame you and I don't blame the car; there's only one person responsible for what happened last night and if I know Catherine, she's doing everything in her power to find out who it is."

"Who what is?" Redressed in the same pair of scrubs she'd been given the previous night, Sara grinned happily at him from the open doorway. "I knew you'd wake up while I was gone." Quickly making her way up the other side of the bed, she pushed her damp hair out of the way as she leaned in for a kiss. "You okay?"

"I am now." Returning the smile, his gaze strayed to the deep bruising that marred the left side of her face and he winced in sympathy before locking eyes with her again. "That looks bad, honey; are you sure _you're_ all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Mindful of her proximity to his injured hand, she glanced down at the heavy bandages that covered it from the forearm down. "How's this doing?"

"It still feels kind of numb; there's some tingling in my fingers though so I'm hoping that's a good sign."

"I'm sure it is." Running her hand lightly up his arm, Sara gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "They said the tendons went back together well and that given time and therapy, your hand will be good as new."

Watching her closely, Grissom frowned; Sara's face was drawn, the strain and anxiety of the past eighteen hours plain for all to see and he decided to forego Elaine's food suggestion for a different one altogether.

"You're tired, honey, you need to get some sleep."

"I did." As if trying to ward of the accusation of exhaustion, Sara pushed off the guardrail and stood up straight "In fact, I only just woke up."

"So Elaine told me but I was talking about 'real' sleep in a bed not an hour or so parked in one of those chairs." Reaching up and across with his right hand, he lifted hers from his shoulder and ran his thumb lightly across the back of her fingers "How about letting Elaine drive you home for a while? You can always catch a ride back with one of the guys later on."

"I'll be leaving in an hour or so anyway, Sara, I have a class this afternoon that I can't miss and your place isn't that far out of my way." Sitting forward in her seat, Elaine looked across at the younger woman "I'd be more than happy to give you a lift."

"Thanks for the offer but I'm staying here." Turning, Sara pulled the second chair closer to the bed and took a seat. "I'm not ready to go anywhere just yet."

"Sara-"

"I said no, Grissom!" Exhaustion caused her to snap and Sara paused for a second to take a deep breath. "Look, I'll go home later, okay? I don't have a problem with that but, right now, I _need_ to be here." Locking eyes with him, she sighed. "It's for my sake, more than anything, Gil so please don't push me on this."

"What about Hank?" Unwilling to concede just yet, Grissom tried another tack. "He's been locked up in that apartment all night; he's probably going nuts."

"Actually, by now, he's probably barreling his way around a certain detective's backyard wondering which plant he should destroy next." Confident now that she'd get her way, Sara relaxed in her chair. "Jim offered to take him for a couple of days so I don't have to worry about him while you're in here; Hank's always loved it there so it should be fine."

"You might not think that when we get hit with the landscaping bill."

"Oh, I don't think Jim will let him do too much damage." Needing the tactile reassurance, Sara's hand slid across the bed until it rested on Grissom's calf. "I gave him a list of things you're going to need while you're in here too - pajamas, shaving gear, stuff like that; he said he'd bring them in later this afternoon."

"And then you'll let him drive you home."

It was a statement, not a question, and Sara could do nothing but accept the compromise.

"And then I'll let him drive me home." She grinned. "Happy now?"

"Not quite, if you're going to be here for most of the afternoon, you're going to need to eat." Grissom's eyes darted quickly from Sara to Elaine and then back again. "So, I want you to go with Elaine and get some lunch."

A tentative knock on the closed door stopped Sara from answering and all three looked towards the entrance as Catherine poked her head into the room.

"Is this a private party or is anyone welcome?"

"Catherine." Quickly getting to her feet, Elaine ushered the other woman into the room. "We've been expecting you."

"Yeah, I'm kind of late; I got caught up in a meeting." With a carrier bag in one hand and a manila folder in the other, Catherine paused at the end of the bed, her gaze raking briefly across the two women in the room before coming to rest on Grissom.

He welcomed her with a smile.

"Hey Cath."

"Hey yourself." Relief flooding through her, Catherine's face broke into a grin. "I wasn't even sure you'd be awake yet and here you are, sitting up and talking to your fan club."

"I've only been awake for about ten minutes." He informed her. "And my fan club, if that's what you want to call them, is just heading downstairs for some lunch." He allowed his gaze to drift towards Sara, one eyebrow rising in a direct challenge. "Aren't you, Sara?"

"Apparently." Pushing herself to her feet, Sara moved reluctantly back from the bed as Elaine, a smile playing about her lips, stepped forward to meet her at the door.

"Oh, Sara." Turning suddenly, Catherine held out the plastic bag she held. "This is for you." She waited for the younger woman to take it before continuing. "I spoke to Jim a couple of hours ago and he asked me to raid your locker for a change of clothes before I left the lab." Eyeing her with curiosity, Catherine shrugged. "I'm surprised you're still here actually, I thought you'd have gone home hours ago."

"Um, I was... planning to." Caught unawares by the unexpected comment, Sara quickly pulled the bag open and pretended to inspect the contents. "But I fell asleep in the chair and, by the time I woke up, everyone had gone."

"So, she stuck around to keep an eye on me." Grissom added, hoping to draw Catherine's attention away from his addled lover.

"And, she's been company for me." Picking up on the slight tension that had suddenly appeared in the room, Elaine came to the rescue. "Which is why I'm buying her lunch." Holding the heavy door open, Elaine gestured for the younger woman to precede her into the corridor. "Come on, Sara, we'll find you somewhere to change on the way down."

Looking up, Sara smiled in gratitude before glancing back towards the bed. "We'll be fifteen minutes, all right?"

"Make it thirty." Ignoring Catherine presence all together, Grissom smiled to soften the order. "Take your time eating then head outside and get some fresh air; you've been cooped up in here all morning."

Standing in the doorway, Sara's eyes narrowed rebelliously. "I'll agree to twenty."

Grissom sighed. "Thirty at least or you don't come back at all."

Sara's mouth opened but Catherine beat her to the punch.

"Actually half an hour probably would be better, Sara." Holding up the manila folder, she cocked her head towards it. "There are a couple of things I'd like to discuss with Grissom and I think it'd be better if we were alone." She let her eyes slide quickly past Sara towards Elaine and she hoped her younger colleague would get the message.

"Thirty minutes then." With a brief nod of understanding, Sara grudgingly acquiesced. "But no longer than that, okay?" She looked from Catherine to Grissom. "You still need to rest."

"I won't be pushing him on anything, Sara." Catherine promised her. "There are just a couple of small things that I'm hoping he can clear up."

"Okay then." Accepting the assurance, Sara looked over at Elaine. "I guess we better go and get that lunch."

"Well..." As the door closed behind the two departing women, Catherine turned to the bed with a grin. "You're certainly looking better than the last time I saw you."

"I probably couldn't look much worse, right?"

"No, I don't think you could." Making her way up the side of the bed, she leaned over the guardrail and pressed an affectionate kiss to her friend's cheek. "So, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good actually; I slept most of the morning and I'm feeling a lot better now than I was before." He offered her a small, self-conscious smile. "I'll live."

"Only just." Running a hand over her face, Catherine shuddered at the memory of the night before. "God, Grissom, you scared the hell out of me back there." Reaching out, she grabbed for his hand. "If Sara and Warrick hadn't found you when they did-"

"But they did find me, Cath." Turning his hand in hers, he gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. "They found me and they got me out and, despite someone's best efforts, I'm going to be fine so don't get too comfortable at my desk, okay? I'll be back before you know it."

"You better be." Releasing her hold on him, Catherine pulled the Elaine's empty chair closer before dropping wearily into the seat. "I'm sorry; I guess I must be tired."

"Long night?"

"A long night _and_ a long morning." She smiled and shrugged. "Nick and I spent about six hours processing the garage and the parking lot, then I had to head over to PD to speak with Sam Vega and _then_ I ended up being called in for a meeting with Ecklie and the sheriff." She checked her watch. "Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to get a couple of hours sleep before I have to jump back on the merry-go-round again."

"One way or the other, I'm always dropping you in it, huh?" Grissom smiled in sympathy, knowing all too well how she felt. "What did the sheriff want?"

"Well, it seems that the attack on you has forced the FBI's hand. Burdick got a call first thing this morning from the local field office; two agents will be dropping by the lab later tonight to determine 'exactly what assistance the bureau can offer us in our ongoing investigation.'"

"Yeah, that sounds like the feds." Grissom commented dryly. "It's about time they did something; we asked for their help days ago."

"They probably figured it wasn't worth their while when it was just a couple of hookers getting knocked off." Catherine offered. "But an attack on a well-known criminalist puts a whole new spin on the case, doesn't it?"

"Burdick mention any names?"

"Yeah, he did." Catherine was silent for a moment as she struggled to remember. "Galetti and Harris; you heard of either of them?"

"Harris sounds vaguely familiar but I've never come across Galetti before; I guess I'll meet them both soon enough though." He frowned. "You know, I thought Vega would have been here before this; I've still got to give him a statement."

"Actually, that's something else the sheriff mentioned; you're off-limits for today. Apparently, Jim called him and suggested holding off on questioning you until tomorrow at the earliest; he thinks giving you time to rest up a bit might help with that memory of yours." As Grissom's mouth opened in protest, Catherine held up a restraining hand. "Your doctor agrees, Gil and so does the sheriff besides, from what Jim said there probably wouldn't be much point in trying to get a statement out of you just now anyway."

"I do remember a bit more now than I did when I first came round so maybe they're right." Grissom reluctantly conceded. "Back then I couldn't even remember leaving home at least now I remember starting work on the Mustang; it's after that, that it all gets kind of hazy."

"Don't worry; it'll come." Reaching out, Catherine gave his hand a sympathetic pat. "You know this is out guy, right?" She watched him carefully as she spoke. "I mean, the head wounds, the incision..." She shrugged. "It can't possibly be anyone else."

"Yeah." Grissom agreed. "I've been going over it all in my head and it's just too big a coincidence to be anyone but him. What I don't get is the hand though." Raising his injured arm slightly from the pillows it was cradled on, Grissom frowned. "What the hell is this all about?"

"Well, the only way I can answer that question is to speculate." Catherine shrugged. "And, if I was going to do that, I'd have to guess that it was a means of keeping you inside that garage long enough for the fumes to do their job but, if everything goes according to plan, it might not be too long before we can ask the man himself."

Grissom blinked in surprise. "You've got a suspect?"

"Oh yeah." Enjoying the look of astonishment on his face, she offered him a satisfied smile. "And the more I find out about this guy the more convinced I am that he's our man: we've got his prints on _and_ in the Mustang as well as on your car keys, Wilson pulled a couple of stray hairs off the back of the shirt you were wearing last night that CODIS just IDed as coming from him _and,_ it turns out, he has form - he served eighteen months for assault with a deadly weapon up at Indian Springs Correctional Center." Her smile turned into a grin. "He just got out six months ago."

"Right before the killings started." Grissom commented. "Who did he assault?"

"A prostitute." Catherine informed him. "According to the report, a patrol car came across him one night in one of those little alleys that run off Tropicana; he had her pressed up against a brick wall and was holding a knife to her throat threatening to slice her from ear to ear."

"Sounds like our guy, doesn't it?"

"Yep, that's what I think." Leaning back in the chair, Catherine relaxed. "But the real kicker for me was the name of the woman he attacked that night." Unable to help herself, she broke into a triumphant smile. "It was Janet Keyes, Gil; our Ripper's first victim."

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 24**

"There you go." Sliding the plastic encased salad sandwich towards her dining companion, Elaine offered an ironic smile. "Not exactly the meal I thought we'd be sharing today but it's better than nothing at all."

"It's not exactly the meal we had planned."Sara countered as she levered the container open. "The last I heard we were supposed to be eating Italian."

"Well, unless the cheese in that thing is provolone, I guess we're out of luck." Setting two steaming cups of coffee down on the table, Elaine took her seat and studied the younger woman. "I wish you'd let me get you something more substantial, Sara; a cafeteria sandwich and coffee doesn't sound like much of a lunch to me."

"Maybe not but it's all I want." Glancing up, Sara smiled. "I'm really not all that hungry anyway."

"Well, you've got to eat." Elaine's gazed dropped to the small plastic vial that sat to the side of Sara's cup. "Especially since they've got you on antibiotics too." Fumbling quickly in her pocket, she pulled out a handkerchief just in time to catch a sneeze. "How are you feeling now, by the way; any better?"

"A lot, actually." Finishing off the first half of the sandwich, Sara picked up the second. "I think everything just caught up with me out at the garage: the fear, the tension and, of course, the cold I've had for the past few days." She chuckled as Elaine was caught off-guard by a second sneeze. "And now it looks like I've given it to you."

"Oh, I catch everything that's going about." Raising her coffee cup, Elaine took a careful sip of the hot liquid. "I never used to get a thing back in Minnesota but nowadays I just have to look at someone who has a cold and I'm coming down with it." She shrugged. "So, I take it Catherine doesn't know about the pair of you yet."

"No." Sara told her confidently. "There are only a few people we work with that do: Jim Brass, Al Robbins and Greg really, I think that's it." Her lips twitched in amusement. "Oh, and I found out yesterday that Conrad Ecklie's in on it too but we can't really count him, not officially anyway."

"I wasn't really going to mention this but you can add Nick to that list as well." Elaine chuckled at Sara's expression of surprise. "That was quite a proprietorial hold you had on Gil this morning while you were asleep and going by the look on Nick's face when he walked in, he put two and two together and definitely came up with four."

"Oh, well." Sara quickly absorbed the information before raising her shoulders in a quick shrug. "Nick's not a problem; I can handle him."

"Do you need to?" Elaine stared across the table, one careful shaped eyebrow rising in question. "Why don't you just come clean with everyone? Now seems like the perfect time."

"Don't think I haven't considered it." Snapping the now-empty container closed, Sara pushed it away and reached for her coffee. "The decision for that's been left up to me anyway, Gil says he doesn't mind one way or the other but..." Clasping both hands around the cup, she savored the heat that seeped through the ceramic. "I don't know; one part of me wants to scream it from the rooftops but there's another part that's not quite ready to let the rest of the world intrude on what we have." She fell silent for a moment before sighing wearily. "And then something like last night happens and I realize just how easily I could lose it all... how easily I could have lost him."

"He's going to be fine, you know." Reaching across the table, Elaine placed a comforting hand on Sara's arm. "Gil's strong; he'll bounce back."

"Yeah, he will." With a nod of agreement, Sara smiled warmly at the older woman. "Would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"Of course not." Pulling her hand back, Elaine leaned back in her chair. "Fire away."

"I was wondering if you know what happened to Amy?"

* * *

"What's his name?"

"Uh, you know what? Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it." Suddenly realizing that she may have said too much, Catherine quickly backpedaled. "You haven't given your statement yet and you're memory's still on the fritz so I'd hate to think that anything we discussed today influenced you."

"Let me ask you something, Cath." Turning bloodshot eyes towards her, Grissom ignored the pain arcing through his skull as he stared at his colleague and friend. "Someone comes at you with a weapon of some kind; what's the first thing you do?"

"Back up and try to block it, I guess."

"Correct." Raising his right hand, he turned it so she could see both front and back. "No defensive wounds on that one, not even a scratch, and I'm pretty sure there's none on the left either which leads me to think that whoever it was came up on me from behind. I'm fairly sure that I was knocked out almost straight away and, as it stands at the moment, my statement will probably consist of one sentence: I was working on the car and then I woke up in the hospital." He smiled and shrugged. "I don't think knowing the suspect's name is really going to influence me much, do you?"

"I guess you're right." Balancing the manila folder on her lap, Catherine flipped it open. "His name's Ross Martin." Extracting an 8 x 10 enlargement of the same booking photo Mandy had shown her, she handed it over. "He lives in one of those old apartment complexes over in Whitney and works as a driver for the Sanitation Department." Glancing up from the information she was reading, she grinned. "At least he did until two days ago when he phoned in and told them what they could do with their job."

Staring at the photograph, Grissom frowned. "And his prints were in the garage?"

"That's right; we've got his prints _and_ his DNA." Catherine nodded. "Vega swung by his place with a couple of uniforms first thing this morning but he wasn't at home. According to his landlord, Martin said he had business he had to take care of and he'd be out of town until Monday at least; there's a statewide BOLO out on him now and Sam's getting a warrant for the apartment as we speak." She smiled triumphantly. "We're going to search every inch of that place tonight."

"I don't know, Cath." Handing the picture back, Grissom looked unconvinced. "I know it sounds good but something about the whole thing just doesn't work."

"You're joking, right?" Grin disappearing, Catherine stared at him in disbelief. "This guy serves time for an attack on Janet Keyes then, just nineteen days after he's released from prison she turns up dead underneath a bush _then _we find his prints and DNA at a crime scene that is clearly linked to her murder and you're saying it 'doesn't work'?"

"It's been a while since I really studied the Keyes case." He admitted grudgingly. "Was he questioned back in April when Keyes was murdered?"

"Yeah, briefly." Shuffling through the pages in her file, Catherine pulled out the relevant report. "Vartann tracked him down at work; he swore that he'd spent the night at his parent's house out in Green Valley and both of them backed him up on that." She shrugged. "Tony had a word with the neighbors and, while none of them could remember seeing any of the Martins that night, a couple of them did recall seeing three cars in the driveway, one of which was Ross' blue Honda. The theory at the time was that if he was the killer, he would have made sure he had a cast iron alibi so he was put on the backburner as a suspect."

"So, what? Grissom pressed her. You're questioning Vartann's judgment?"

"No, not exactly." Catherine quickly grew defensive. "But it wouldn't be the first time that somebody managed to slip through the cracks and went on to murder again, would it?"

"No, unfortunately it wouldn't." Grissom agreed. "But I don't think you should get your hopes up that Martin's the guy we're after." He sighed wearily. "Don't forget we're dealing with someone who has, so far, killed four women and left absolutely no evidence behind; why would he suddenly become so careless?"

"I can't answer that." Catherine admitted truthfully. "But, I can't find an explanation as to why his fingerprints and DNA would turn up at your crime scene either." Her smile was almost a taunt. "Can you?"

"I don't know." Too worn-out to rise to the bait, Grissom shrugged. "But I imagine you'll find there's some kind of logical explanation when you finally get round to questioning him." Lifting his hand, he rubbed at his eyes before glancing down at the folder in her lap. "What else have you got for me?"

Looking at him closely, Catherine shook her head defiantly.

"Uh-uh, you're getting tired and you need to sleep." Snapping the file closed again, she pushed to her feet. "I think it's time I left."

"Cath-"

"No Gil, you've had enough." She glanced quickly towards the door. "Besides, Elaine and Sara will be back shortly and I don't think either of them will be too impressed when they find out I've been exhausting you with-" She stopped mid-sentence as a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh my God, that's it, isn't it? After all this time, I've finally worked it out."

"Now, you've lost me." Relaxing back against the pillow, Grissom frowned in confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jeez, I know you like your secrets, Gil but I don't know why you couldn't have let me in on this one; I certainly don't have a problem with the two of you getting together." Both shoulders rose in a slight shrug as Catherine's smile grew wider. "So what if there's a slight age difference? Some guys like older women and, if you happen to be one of them then-"

"For God's sake, Catherine." Realizing at last where she was headed, Grissom rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the accusation. "If there's one thing I can promise you it's that I am _not_ having a relationship with Elaine Grogan." He sighed. "Apart from anything else, John would never let me get away with it and the last thing I need at the moment is to be haunted by a pissed off ghost."

"Yeah, I guess you do have enough on your plate, don't you?" Catherine chuckled lightly. "So, where is she then; this girlfriend of yours?"

"You know, I'm not sure." Eyelids growing heavy, Grissom fumbled for an answer. "She was here a little while ago; I imagine she'll be back soon."

"Well, when she does finally make it here, tell her from me, that she'd better look after you, okay?" Slipping her hand over his, Catherine held it firmly. "Cause if she doesn't, I'm going to kick her butt from one side of Vegas to the other."

"Well, if that doesn't keep her in line nothing will." With his eyes now closed, Grissom smiled at the image. "Thanks Cath."

"Anytime." Leaning across the top of the guardrail, she pressed her lips to his temple. "And you can tell her something else for me too: she's a very lucky woman."

Her only answer was a soft murmur as Grissom drifted into the healing sleep he'd been fighting for the past five minutes and, after a final squeeze of the hand she still held, Catherine tucked the case file securely under her arm and slipped from the room.

* * *

"Amy?" Elaine asked hesitantly, clearly taken back by the unexpected query.

"Yes, Amy Sorenson." Sensing the older woman's unease and guessing at its cause, Sara hurried to reassure her. "It's all right, Elaine; he told me all about it yesterday."

"He did?" She couldn't quite keep the note of disbelief from her voice. "Gil actually told you about her?"

"He didn't have much of a choice actually." Sara told her. "There was a photograph of the two of them in one of those boxes he picked up from your house and I was the one who found it."

"Ah." Placing her cup down on the table, Elaine smiled her understanding. "That would have to be the photo that my mule-headed husband decided Gil _had to have_ before he left Minnesota." She shook her head. "I will never understand what John was thinking that day; I'm sorry, Sara, I should probably have checked those boxes before I handed them over."

"Actually, I'm glad you didn't." Sara confided. "It's something that I needed to know about and if it hadn't been for that picture-"

"You'd still be in the dark in twenty years time?" Elaine suggested, knowing only too well what Grissom could be like.

"Yes." Sara chuckled. "Something like that." Her smile slipped as she sighed. "He told me about their relationship, about the baby, about what Amy _did_ to it, and I can understand why he's kept it to himself for so long but I can't help being curious about what happened to her and you're the only one I can ask."

"I can understand that, I suppose." Looking across the table, Elaine shook her head in wonder. "I'm still amazed that he actually told you though, when I mentioned it the other day at my place he shut the subject down straight away."

"Well, it did take an argument, a walkout and some Dutch courage before he could bring himself to do it but yeah, he actually opened up a lot more than I expected him to."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that." Inhaling deeply, Elaine let the breath out with a relieved sigh before smiling across the table at the younger woman. "That is one particular subject I didn't think he'd ever let see the light of day again."

"I would say that time heals all wounds but I know, from personal experience, that that it doesn't." Sara offered. "He's scarred by what Amy did to him, I can't think of any other way to describe it, and I guess that's one of the main reasons that I'd like to know what became of her; I'd hate to think that she got off scot-free."

"Well then, I'm delighted to tell you that she didn't." Lifting her cup again, Elaine smiled over the rim. "As far as the immediate aftermath is concerned; Amy returned to the lab a week after Gil left the state and, just to prove how stupid and self-centered the girl was, she tried playing the sympathy card by telling everyone that Gil had abandoned her and the shock had caused her to miscarry." She shook her head, disbelief at the young woman's nerve still evident. "It took all of an hour for that story to get back to John and he took great delight in setting everybody straight. From that moment on, life was made all but impossible for Amy at the crime lab and, if I remember correctly, she resigned without notice the next day."

"Well, I can't say she didn't deserve it." Sara commented bitterly as she raised her own cup and took a sip.

"No, she deserved a lot more." Elaine concurred. "And her father thought so too. He'd allowed her to return home after the termination only because her mother begged him to but when he found out that she'd quit her job he decided that was the last straw. He drove her down to the bus station, handed her two hundred dollars and told her she was on her own."

Sara remembered Grissom's description of his almost father-in-law. "He and Gil got on well together, didn't they?"

"Yes, they did." Elaine nodded. "He was also in that hospital room when John confronted Amy." She shook her head regretfully. "From what I was told later, the poor man was almost as devastated as Gil was."

"So that's that then." Sara wasn't entirely sure what she'd been hoping for as far as 'punishment' went but what she'd heard so far hardly seemed just. "She was effectively run out of town; end of story."

"Not quite." Elaine continued. "I came across her mother at a graduation ceremony at MSU a few months before John and I moved to Vegas and I found out from her that Amy hadn't gone far at all. It turns out, she'd caught the bus to Duluth, which is only about two and a half hours north of Minneapolis and managed to find herself a job in a shoe store." She paused for just a second. "About three months later, she bagged her first husband."

Something about the way the words were said piqued Sara's interest. "Her first?"

"Oh yes, it seems that she's spent the past twenty years bouncing from job to job _and_ marriage to marriage. When I spoke to her mother at the college that day she told me Amy was in the process of divorcing number four and already had the fifth one lined up." Elaine cocked her head, a satisfied smile playing about her lips. "Apparently, the main sticking point in all of her relationships has been her inability to fall pregnant – it seems that botched abortion did more than just rid her of Gil's baby." The smile quickly disappeared as she shrugged. "I think, as painful as it all was at the time, he actually had a very lucky escape."

"For the most part, I think he'd probably agree with you." Sara concurred, her gaze dropping to the tabletop. "But, I wouldn't be too surprised if there's at least part of him that would give almost anything for the chance to go back and have it end differently." She looked up again. "He really wanted that baby, didn't he?"

"Yes, very much so." Elaine confirmed with a nod. "Oh, he was terrified at first but, once he'd managed to get his head around the idea, he couldn't wait to be a father." She chuckled at the memory. "He was positive it was a girl and nothing anyone said could convince him otherwise; he'd picked out her name and everything." She shook her head sadly. "God knows what he would have done if it had turned out to be a boy."

"You know, I'm not sure he ever grieved for that child." Sara confided. "One of the things that surprised me most when he told me about all of this was how raw it all still seemed to be." She shrugged. "I don't think he's ever really dealt with the loss."

"Knowing Gil..." Elaine shook her head. "... no, he probably hasn't. I imagine he spent the drive from Minneapolis to Los Angeles locking it all away somewhere deep where it couldn't hurt him but something that big can't just be compartmentalized; you do that and it's just going to fester."

"That's what I was thinking too." Sara nodded and sighed. "Do you think it's too late?"

"I don't think it's ever too late to mourn." Elaine told her truthfully. "The question is: how would you get him to do it?"

"That's something I'm going to have to think about." Placing her now-empty cup back on the table, Sara stretched then glanced at her watch. "Look at the time; so much for thirty minutes, huh?"

Checking her own wrist, Elaine sighed. "Well, I'm going to have to go now if I want to make my class." Pushing her seat back, she got to her feet. "Tell Gil I'll drop in and see him again tonight, will you? I'll stop by on my way home."

"I'll do that, Elaine and thank you." Sara smiled up at the other woman. "For the lunch _and_ for the information; both of them have made me feel a lot better."

"You're very welcome." Sliding the chair back under the table, Elaine returned the smile. "You just make sure you get plenty of rest as well, okay?" A frown lined her forehead as a sudden thought occurred. "I'm not sure I like the thought of you being alone in that apartment of yours, Sara; not at the moment anyway. How about coming to stay with me for a couple of days?"

"Thank you but I'll be fine, really; the security in our building is top of the line, that's one of the reasons we bought there in the first place." Sara smile widened as she tried to ease the older woman's concern. "Besides, it won't be for long anyway, I'll let Hank enjoy himself at Jim's tonight then take him home again tomorrow." She chuckled, "Trust me, no one's could get past that dog."

"You're sure?" Clearly unconvinced, Elaine tried again. "I have plenty of room, you know; it wouldn't be any trouble."

"I'm positive; don't worry, Elaine, I'll be fine." Sara glanced again at her watch. "Now, I think you'd better go before your students start wondering where you are."

"Okay." Realizing she was right, Elaine reluctantly relented. "But I want you to promise me that if there's anything either of you need or anything I can do for you, you won't hesitate to call; I only teach a few classes a week nowadays and the rest of my schedule's fairly flexible so I'll have no problem freeing things up if you need some help." Reaching across, she placed a friendly hand on Sara's shoulder. "And if you have any more questions, just let me know."

"Actually, there is another one." Collecting the two empty cups, Sara placed them back on the tray ready for removal as she posed the question she'd been dying to ask every since Elaine had first brought up the subject. "What was the name he chose for his daughter?"

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 25**

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. I knew I was going to be busy in the last week or two of June but I didn't know I was going to be that busy or I would have warned you all at the end of my last post. I promise, in the future, if I have any suspicions that RL is going to get in the way, I'll do my best to let you know in advance. Thanks for your patience._

* * *

Coming to a halt in the now familiar hospital corridor, Jim Brass nodded and smiled at a passing nurse as he reached out with one hand and nudged open the door of Grissom's room before poking his head inside with a grin.

"You up for a visitor?"

"Hey, Jim." Tossing the crossword he was attempting to work on down onto the bed beside his leg, Grissom smiled a welcome at the detective. "Of course; come in."

"You're looking good, buddy." Easing himself into the closer of the room's two chairs, Jim looked across at his friend with interest. "I guess there's something to be said for lazing around in bed all day, huh?"

"Actually, I haven't had much of a chance _to_ laze around." Raising his hand, Grissom gestured to the now-empty space to his right. "Almost as soon as they took the last of IVs away, they hauled me up out of here and got me moving; I spent most of yesterday afternoon being escorted up and down the hallway and sitting in the chair instead of lying here."

"That's good." Jim nodded his approval as his mind slipped back to his own hospital stay. "Once they get you mobile things start to move a lot quicker; it won't be long before they're kicking you out and sending you home."

"You're right, it won't." Grissom grinned across at him. "In fact they're doing it today; Sara should be here in half an hour or so to pick me up."

"Yeah?" Jim frowned at the news. "You sure you're ready for that? I mean, it has only been a couple of days."

"Oh, believe me, I'm ready." Grissom assured him. "According to the scan I had this morning, the skull fracture's stable with no signs of bleeding and, provided I take things slowly, I can more or less get around under my own steam without screwing up my abdominal muscles too much so, all I'm doing now is taking up a bed and I'd much rather do that at home than here."

"And your hand?" Jim nodded towards the navy blue sling that now supported the injured limb.

"It's good." Grissom glanced down at it; the heavy bandaging that had been in place since the surgery had been replaced with a customized splint, its hard plastic casing covering the entire back of his hand and fingers and holding them immobile in a slightly curled position. "I've got keep the brace on at all times, do the exercises they taught me every four hours and turn up for therapy sessions twice a week but, apart from that, all I can do is let it heal and hope for the best."

"Well, I guess you and the doctors know best." Jim conceded. "Can't say I blame you about wanting to go home though; I remember it couldn't come quickly enough for me." He smiled. "And I'm sure Sara can't wait to get you home again either; she's probably just dying to play nursemaid."

"Well, that's one particular novelty that I'm sure will wear off quickly." Grissom smiled at the image before becoming serious. "Look Jim, before she gets here, I just want you to know that I appreciate what you've done for her while I've been in here; I know you've been keeping an eye on her and Greg told me about helping you deliver both our cars back to the condo and I..." His shoulders rose in a quick embarrassed shrug. "I just want to say thanks."

"Hey, it was nothing." Brass waved him off. "After all, that's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah, they are but we weren't really on the best of terms when you left for Newark and..." Grissom paused a moment before continuing. "Well, thanks for not holding a grudge."

"Don't be stupid." Sitting forward in the chair, Jim stared at him as his shoulders rose in a quick, dismissive shrug. "Yeah, I'll admit it; you weren't exactly my favorite person the day I flew out of here but, in hindsight, I can't really blame you for reacting the way you did." He sighed heavily. "Ellie's playing both of us, Gil and I don't like it one little bit. I'm not sure what her game is or what she hopes to achieve with this stupid charade of hers but I've got to find a way to put a stop to it; before she does any _real_ damage."

"No luck in Newark?"

"Oh, she's been there." There was no mistaking the anger and disappointment in Jim's tone. "She contacted both her mother _and_ a mutual friend of ours but that was a month and a half ago and, from what I've been told, there was no mention of Caleb being with her. I've got someone keeping an eye out for me back there but it I have a feeling it's going to be another dead end."

"I'm sorry, Jim." Seeing his friend's frustration, Grissom's resolve softened. "Look, I've been thinking, I know I said it doesn't bother me whether that paternity test gets done or not but, even if the court does rule in my favor in absentia, there's still going to be a question mark in some people's minds so it's really going to be in my best interests to have Ellie _and_ Caleb found."

"I'd have thought so." Brass concurred, his head dropping forward as he stared at the floor. "I know you don't put much stead in reputations, Gil but you have a good one and I'd hate to see it being damaged because of my daughter's lies."

"So, instead of sniping at each other, how about we draw a line underneath everything that happened the other day and start afresh? I'll help you out with whatever I can." Seeing Jim's head come up at his words, Grissom raised a single finger in warning. "As long as it doesn't involve spending the next eighteen years raising your grandson."

Jim looked across with a sheepish half-smile. "I was asking a hell of a lot, wasn't I?"

"Slightly." Grissom's mouth twitched up in an answering grin. "I suppose it could have been worse though; you might have rolled up at my door and demanded that I make an honest woman of your daughter."

"Hey, just be grateful I didn't find out about all of this while she was still pregnant." Jim couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "I might have broken out the 12 gauge and had you reciting your vows in front of Elvis before you even knew what hit you." The smile slipped and his voice took on a sadder quality. "Not that it would have done any good; I'm afraid it'd take a lot more than that to make an honest woman out of Ellie."

Knowing that there was nothing he could say that would make his friend feel any better, Grissom chose not to remark on the statement and, instead, cocked his head in question. "So, we're okay now?"

"Yeah, buddy, we're fine." Reaching across, Brass patted him on the knee. "And we work well as a team, right? We'll find them together; it's just a matter of time."

"Gil?" Pushing the door wide, Conrad Ecklie stepped briskly towards the end of the bed as two dark-suited men trailed him into the room. "It's good to see you looking better."

"Another half hour and you wouldn't have seen him at all." Brass quipped. "He's blowing this joint just as soon as his ride gets here."

"Well, that is good news." With a genuine smile, Ecklie looked from one man to the other. "It's just as well we arrived when we did." Moving to the side, he gestured towards his two companions. "This is Special Agent Frank Harris and-"

"Paul Galetti." Stepping forward, the younger of the two agents held his hand out towards Grissom in greeting. "How are you doing, Dr. Grissom? It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"I'm fine, thank you, Agent Galetti." Taking the proffered hand, Grissom gave it a shake. "I take it you're both from the local field office."

"That's right and, please, drop the agent bit, okay? I'd prefer it if we just stuck with Paul." With a smile, Galetti turned towards Jim. "I'm going to guess that you're Captain Brass?"

"Correct." Guessing at the reason behind the agent's visit, Brass nodded towards the door. "You want me to leave or-"

"Not unless Dr. Grissom does." Leaving his colleague to stand by the end of the bed, Galetti pulled over the second chair and took a seat as he glanced up at Grissom for an answer.

"That's fine with me." With an indifferent shrug, Gil looked past the agent to address Brass. "You'll be rejoining the investigation anyway, right?"

"Vega will stay on as lead detective but yeah, I was planning on giving him a hand." Aware of how that may have sounded, Jim hurried to clarify his statement. "Not that he needs it, of course, Sam Vega is more than capable of handling this case."

"I have no doubt that he is." His gaze shifting from one man to the other, Galetti smiled. "I'd just like to assure both of you that the FBI has no intention of taking over this case; as far as we're concerned, it's a LVPD operation and we're here simply to offer you any assistance they may need." Catching sight of the disbelieving look that passed between the two men, Galetti raised both hands in a gesture of openness and honesty. "Seriously, guys, we're not here to railroad anybody out of the investigation; we spent most of yesterday and last night going over the case with Detective Vega and Ms. Willows and it seems to me that they're both doing a more than adequate job."

"Of course they are." Confident in his colleague's abilities, and put at ease by the younger agent's friendly demeanor, Grissom relaxed against the bed's headboard. "So, I take it you're here to ask me some questions."

"Just a couple." Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, Galetti withdrew a slim notebook. "We don't think it's anything important, just filling in some gaps really, but when Mr. Ecklie mentioned that he was stopping by to see you this morning, I thought we might as well tag along." Flipping through the pages, he stopped and looked up. "Does the number 702 877 4872 mean anything to you? We've checked your cell phone log and know that it's never come up there before but maybe someone's called you on your office phone or at home? It would have been sometime in the last few weeks."

"I don't think so." Grissom mulled it over briefly before shaking his head. "Telephone numbers are something I tend to remember but I'm fairly sure that I haven't come across that one before. Why?"

"A call was placed to your cell phone from that number at 9:34pm on Wednesday night. The signal was picked up by the phone tower half a mile north of the crime lab so whoever it was that tried to call you was in the vicinity at the time of your attack and we were hoping you'd be able to shed some light on who that may have been."

"How about the phone company?" Jim interrupted. "What did they tell you?"

"Nothing much." Galetti consulted his book. "It's a prepaid handset that was purchased a little over three weeks ago from an electronics store down on Tropicana and, according to the store manager, it was a cash sale so that makes it-"

"All but impossible to trace." Jim finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah." Galetti agreed before turning back to Grissom. "That's why I was hoping you could help us out with a name; at the moment, we have no other way of finding out who made that call."

"Sorry, Paul." Grissom shrugged helplessly "I wish I could help you out but it just doesn't sound familiar to me." Lifting his hand, he idly massaged his temple as the dull throbbing ache that had set up residence behind his eyes flared briefly before settling down again. "Mind you, at the moment, I'd probably be hard pressed to tell you _my_ phone number so you may want to try me again in a couple of days time; maybe we'll have more luck then."

"You know, that's something I was curious about." Speaking for the first time, Harris rounded the end of the bed to take up a position slightly nearer to his colleague, his voice holding more than a hint of condescension and arrogance. "How do we know that this 'amnesia' that you claim to be experiencing isn't just a ploy?"

"Excuse me?" Stunned by both the question and the tone with which it was asked, Jim glared at the older agent. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"It's a perfectly sensible one." Harris met Jim's glare with one of his own as he jerked a thumb towards the bed. "It isn't the first time this guy's kept vital information to himself, is it? We are, after all, talking about the same man who conducted a covert investigation into one serial killer." He feigned an innocent shrug. "Who's to say he wouldn't do it again?"

"Frank-" The atmosphere in the room changed instantly and Galetti found his attempted rebuke cut off by Grissom.

"That's why your name rang a bell when Catherine mentioned it the other day." With the pieces falling into place, Grissom turned a bemused smile on Harris. "You're one of Culpepper's men, aren't you? You were with him on the Goggle case."

"Yeah, I was and I still remember vividly who it was that wandered blindly, _and unarmed,_ into a confrontation with a murderer." Raking his eyes over the bed, Harris couldn't hide his disdain. "Personally, I'm not sure I'd trust a word that came out of your mouth."

"Well, I guess that's your prerogative." Refusing to rise to the bait, Grissom remained calm and composed as he fixed a level gaze on the older agent. "But, it really wouldn't be too smart of me to keep information back from anyone at the moment Agent Harris; after all, I'm hardly in a position to conduct an investigation right now. Covert or otherwise."

"Okay, I think that's enough." Getting to his feet, Galetti placed himself strategically between the two men and turned to face his colleague. "Frank, I think you should wait outside."

"It'll be my pleasure." With a final belligerent glare at Grissom, Harris turned from the bed, his cell phone setting up a shrill ring as he pulled the door open and exited out into the hall.

"I'm sorry about that." With a heavy sigh, Galetti retook his seat. "I was aware of the Strip Strangler case and I was also aware that Agent Harris had been part of the FBI team that had worked it with you but I had no idea he would react like that." Glancing up, he shot all three men an apologetic smile. "I assure you, if I had, I never would have assigned him to the case."

"You outrank him?" Grissom asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, I do." Galetti appeared embarrassed by the revelation. "I was assigned to the Las Vegas office as an Assistant Special Agent in Charge." He glanced quickly at the door before going on. "Harris was a Supervisory Special Agent when I first arrived here but he-"

"Was busted back down due to attitude problems?" Brass guessed.

"Something like that; yes." Galetti shrugged. "I'll see what I can do about getting someone else to take his place when I get back to the office – it may be difficult though, we're kind of shorthanded already and with this flu that's going around at the moment-"

"Don't worry about it on my account; I've dealt with worse than him in my time." Grissom smiled easily, hoping to put Galetti back at ease. "Besides, with the amount of Percocet I've got going round my system at the moment; it'd take a lot more than anything Harris can offer to really piss me off." He nodded at the notebook in the agent's hand. "So, what else have you got for me?"

"Uh Gil, before we get to the next part, I'm afraid I owe you an apology." Stepping away from the wall he was leaning against, Ecklie moved closer to the bed. "It has to do with the security cameras out the back of the lab."

"Don't tell me..." Jim's mouth twitched up into a sarcastic grin. "None of them were working on Wednesday night?"

"No, they were working but..." Clearly uncomfortable, Conrad shuffled his feet. "...when Archie pulled the tapes to go over them, we discovered that one of the cameras had been moved."

"Oh great." Grissom sighed wearily. "Which camera?"

"The one nearest to the entrance." Ecklie told him. "We thought at first that it might have been done by your attacker but when we went back over the archived footage, we discovered it had actually been caused by a mortuary van that was making a pick up from the morgue; he's come in through the gate on an angle and clipped the camera as he went by." He shrugged helplessly. "The reason for the apology is that it actually happened almost a week ago but, for some reason, nobody picked it up until now; needless to say, I'm instigating a major overhaul of the lab's security."

"So that leaves us with what?" Grissom tried to remember the placement of the second video camera. "A view of the morgue's rear door?"

"Actually, the angle of the other camera covers most of the back of the building." Galetti checked his notebook." And it's thanks to that, that we have some excellent footage of you standing in the parking lot talking on your cell phone. Now, we know from the timestamp that that was just minutes before you were attacked and we also know that right before you ended that call, something caught your attention off to your left." He glanced up. "Is there any chance you remember what that was? Was it something in the street? In the lot?" One eyebrow quirked up hopefully. "Was it a person?"

"I..." Screwing up his eyes, Grissom struggled to remember. "I... I don't know, Paul." Opening his eyes again, he shook his head in frustration. "I'm sure there's something there but I just can't put my finger on what it is." He shrugged "I'm sorry, I can't think. "

"That's okay, don't worry about it." Knowing there was no point in pushing for more just now, Galetti slipped his notebook back into his jacket with a reassuring smile. "If you remember you remember and if you don't." He shrugged good-naturedly. "We'll work around things till you do."

"Thanks." Relieved that the questions were over, Grissom tendered one of his own. "How's the rest of the investigation going?"

"Slowly." Galetti answered truthfully. "Your people have been busy processing everything that came out of that garage but, so far, they haven't found anything apart from the prints and hairs that belong to Ross Martin." Getting to his feet, he returned his chair to its original position. "Your Ms. Willows seems quite confident that he's the guy we're after but she told me that you don't concur."

"Actually, I really hope she turns out to be right but something tells me it's not going to work out that way. After four crime scenes with next to no evidence, I think Cath's just..." Grissom searched for an appropriate term. "... latched onto what she's found at this one." He shrugged. "I know she was disappointed that they couldn't find anything at his apartment to link Martin to any of the scenes and, unfortunately, I think she'll be disappointed again when they finally get around to interviewing him."

"Well, it looks like we'll find out if you're right even sooner than expected." Standing in the now open doorway, Harris addressed the room at large. "A Highway Patrol officer pulled over a blue Honda Accord just outside of Carson City a couple of hours ago; the driver was Ross Martin." Turning his attention to Galetti, he continued. "The Sheriff's department is arranging his transport back to Vegas; they should have him here later tonight."

"Well, that should put a smile on Catherine's face." Jim stated, pleased by the turn of events.

"I guess that's our cue to get going." Reaching out, Galetti once again shook hands with both Grissom and Brass. "I'll make sure you're kept up to speed with what's going on; if Martin is our man, you'll be one of the first to know."

Grissom smiled his thanks as the man moved towards the door.

Following along at the rear, Ecklie paused as Grissom called him back.

Conrad?" He waited for Ecklie to turn. "Could you make sure that Catherine and the guys know that I'm no longer here? I'd hate for them to turn up only to discover that I've been released."

"I'll take care of it." With one hand on the door, Ecklie smiled. "You just make sure you take it easy, okay? I'll give you a call in a day or so to see how you're getting on."

"So..." Jim waited for the door to close to close fully before turning back to face Grissom. "You think Harris is going to be a problem?"

"Not for me." Grissom commented with a small smile. "Officially, I'm off the case which means that if he is going to cause problems, he'll be causing them for you, Catherine and Vega.

"What do you mean by 'officially' off the case?" Jim frowned. "You're totally off the case, buddy; you're a victim here remember."

"I'm not a victim, Jim; I'd rather leave that description for the four women who are now lying dead because we haven't been able to work out who this guy is yet." Turning carefully, Grissom swung his legs off the bed and eased himself to the ground. "If the killer sticks to the script, he'll be making contact by letter in a little over a week and just a few days later, he'll be out hunting again but it won't just be one victim this time – he'll be after two and there is no way I'm going to be 'taking it easy' with that about to hit us." Moving slowly, his left hand held high in its sling and his right bracing his abdomen, he walked over to the room's small closet and began pulling out his clothes. "I may not be able to have a hands-on role in the investigation but I sure as hell can help work it from behind the scenes."

"So, what?" Surprised by the vehemence in his friend's voice, Jim sat up straighter on his seat. "You're only going to give yourself a week to recover? I think Sara might have something to say about that."

"No doubt she will." His breathing slightly labored, Grissom returned to stand beside the bed. "But I can't afford to take any longer than that; one way or another, I intend being back behind my desk as soon as I possibly can." Picking up a short-sleeved shirt from the bed in front of him, he tossed it carelessly in Jim's direction. "Now, instead of sitting there watching me, you can make yourself useful and help me to get changed; Sara will be here any minute now and the sooner I'm out of this place the better."

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 26**

"I went through all of this five months ago when the stupid bitch turned up dead." Seated by himself on one side of the large interrogation room table, Ross Martin ran his hand through his shoulder-length blond hair as his gaze shifted from one detective to the other. "So, do you guys mind telling me why I'm back here again 'cause I sure as hell don't know."

"It's pretty simple, Ross." Rifling through the folder in front of him, Sam Vega looked up with a small smile. "We just need you to go over it again for us and then answer a couple of additional questions." He shrugged dismissively. "No big deal."

"Yeah, right." Martin snorted. "That explains why I was hauled back here from Carson City and then forced to sit in a cell while the local cops and the FBI argued over who was going to interview me." He glanced over at Paul Galetti. "I'm glad to see you finally decided to share."

"Detective Vega's right, Mr. Martin." Sitting forwards in his seat, Galetti stared at the younger man. "It doesn't have to be a big deal; all we're after are the answers to some questions and, provided you cooperate, you could be out of here and on your way in no time at all." He nodded towards the empty chair opposite his. "You sure you don't want an attorney present? We're happy to get one for you."

"No, I'm fine." With a resigned sigh, Martin waved off the offer. "I just want to get this over and done with."

"Okay then." Scanning the top page of his file, Vega started the proceedings. "Tell us about Janet Keyes."

"What is there to tell?" Martin couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice. "She's dead, I didn't do it, end of story."

"Well, you say you didn't do it but that's pretty much par for the course around here, Ross." Vega glanced up. "You have to admit you did have a motive for killing her."

"Yeah, I did." He nodded. "Thanks to her I lost my job, most of my friends and spent eighteen months on laundry duty up in Indian Springs." With a slow shake of his head, Martin's gaze dropped to the table. "My parents are decent people, man; it almost killed them seeing me in there."

"And that was all Janet Keyes fault, was it?" Crossing his arms, Galetti leaned back in his seat. "It had nothing to do with you?"

"Yeah, of course it did." Looking up again, Martin sighed deeply before continuing. "I was the one who stopped at that street corner looking for sex, I was the one who followed her into that alley and I was the one they came across holding a knife to her throat but I can't take all of the blame for what happened that day; she had a part in it too and not just as the poor, innocent victim like she told the cops that day."

"Well, that's how these read." Vega held up both Janet Keyes statement as well as those of the arresting officers. "So, how about you explain how your version differs."

"Okay." Inhaling deeply, Martin began to recount his side of the story. "It was late afternoon; I was driving home from work when I saw her standing on the sidewalk up ahead." Suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted on his seat and both detectives noted the slight flush of embarrassment that colored his cheeks. "I knew what she was and I didn't make a habit of paying for it, you know but, it had been a long week and I was tired and I just thought 'what the hell' and pulled up beside her." He glanced quickly at the two men before looking away again. "She asked me what I wanted and we agreed on a twenty for some straight, no-frills head so I popped the passenger door and suddenly she's backing away and telling me she'll only get into a car with one of her regulars; gives me this story about being attacked a couple of months back and says she'd rather lose the money than take that risk again."

Galetti turned to Vega with a frown. "Was an attack ever reported?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "Keyes was asked about it at the time and told the uniforms that she didn't report it because she didn't think she'd be believed." He shrugged. "She was probably right."

"Okay." Galetti turned his attention back to Martin. "Then what?"

"Then, she points out this alleyway about fifteen yards down the road and tells me to park the car and meet her there, that she'd be waiting just around the corner." Martin broke into a harsh, humorless laugh. "She was waiting all right – just her and her trusty six inch knife." Sobering quickly, he looked at his two interrogators. "Tells me all I have to do is hand over my wallet and walk away."

"Which you didn't do." Vega surmised.

"No." Martin agreed. "Now would be a different story but, back then, I had a problem with controlling my temper." His tone was full of regret as he glanced from Vega to Galetti and back again. "If there's one thing I can thank prison for it's the anger management courses they forced me to take but back then, in that alleyway, I just saw red; I rushed her, slammed her back against the wall and yanked the knife out of her hand." He shrugged. "I don't remember holding it to her throat _or_ threatening to kill her like she said I did but that's when the cop car came around the corner and the next thing I knew I was facedown on the ground in handcuffs."

"And you didn't see the streets again until..." Vega checked his notes. "March 15 this year."

"That's right." Martin nodded emphatically. "I've been out for six months now _and_ I've been staying out of trouble; I haven't done anything, man."

Ignoring the comment, Vega slid three photographs across the table towards him. "You come across any of these women before, Ross?"

"No, I've never seen them." Martin studied them briefly before pushing them back. "Why, they dead too?"

"Yes, they are." Galetti confirmed. "Just like Janet Keyes." Leaning forward, he locked eyes with the man opposite. "In fact, we believe the same person killed all four woman so... now do you know why you're here, Mr. Martin?"

"Oh no." Pushing his chair back slightly, Martin stared in shock at the two men. "I didn't do it; you are _not _pinning that on me."

"Seventh of August, thirty-first of August and the eighth of September." Reading from the folder, Vega rattled off the dates of the last three murders. "We need to know where you were and what you were doing."

"I... I don't know." Slumping slightly in his seat, Martin struggled to remember. "The first two were weekdays, right? So I would have been out during the day and home alone at night." He bit his lip, thinking quickly. "But the 8th was last Saturday wasn't it?" At Vega's confirming nod, he broke into a relieved smile. "Well, that one's easy because I spent the entire weekend round at my folks."

"All of it?"

"I went there straight after work on the Friday and stayed right through until Monday morning." Catching sight of Vega's dubious expression, Martin hurried to solidify his alibi. "Both my parents can confirm that and so can one of their neighbors; hell, I spent half the weekend in her garage. She'd just pulled an old classic out of storage and asked me to give it the once over before it went to its new owner. Sweet ride, man, '69 Mustang; she's in pretty good condition too - won't take much to get that baby back on the road."

Turning slightly in his seat, Vega glanced quickly at the mirrored wall behind him as Galetti took over the questioning.

"And why would she ask a truck driver for the Sanitation Department to give a classic car 'the once over'?"

"I'm only driving trucks until something better comes along." Martin informed him. "I'm a fully qualified mechanic or at least I was until I got locked up." He sighed. "By the time I got out, the economy had taken a nose dive and no one down here could afford to take me on. That's what I was doing up in Carson City; there's a week-long car show on up there and I was hoping to make some new contacts and get some work; I need it more than ever now since I told my supervisor exactly where he could park his damn trucks."

"When did you leave for Carson City?"

"Tuesday afternoon right after I quit my job." He shook his head in disgust. "You know, in the six months I worked for them I've gone in early, I've stayed late, I've worked entire weekends when they've needed me to but the minute I want time off, the bastard says he can't spare me." Realizing that his anger was beginning to build, Martin took a moment to calm himself before continuing. "I knew if I stayed there I'd end up doing something I'd regret so I stormed out and took off up north." He thought for a moment. "Must have been around three o'clock when I hit the road."

Keeping his voice level, Galetti asked the question both he and Vega already knew the answer to. "So you were nowhere near Westfall Avenue around 9:30 Wednesday night?"

"Absolutely nowhere." Martin confirmed. "And if you want to check that, I was staying at the Super 8 on Allen Street just along from the Convention Center; I got a room there late Tuesday night when I first arrived." He glanced up self-consciously. "The girl at the reception desk is kind of cute so I've been stopping by to chat with her a couple of times a day; she'll tell you I've been there the whole time."

"Okay, Mr. Martin." Glancing quickly in Vega's direction, Galetti saw the detective's almost imperceptible nod towards the door and, clearing his throat, pushed his chair back from the table. "If you don't mind waiting for a little while longer, we've just got a couple of things to check and then, I think, you'll be good to go."

Moments later, following the detective into the observation room, Galetti stood off to one side as Vega dropped his file on the room's small table and turned to the woman standing at in front of the one-way glass.

"We're on the wrong track, Catherine; we'll check with his parents _and_ the motel clerk up in Carson City but my gut tells me it's definitely not him."

"I have to agree." Galetti stared at the CSI's back. "We could take him step by step through all four murders plus the attack on Dr. Grissom but I don't think it'd do us any good; I believe he's telling us the truth."

"So do I." Turning from the wall of glass, Catherine held up her cell phone. "I just spoke to Elaine Grogan and she confirmed that he _is_ the mechanic she asked to work on the Mustang." She shrugged dejectedly. "That explains the fingerprints we found in the car and the hairs probably transferred from him to Gil via the driver's seat."

"So, it was a blow out this time." Pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against, Greg moved closer to the glass as he watched the man on the other side. "At least we've eliminated one suspect."

"Yeah." Catherine managed a quick, mirthless chuckle. "Now we just have the other million plus citizens of Vegas to go through and, of course, all of the tourists." She frowned at the thought. "God, what if it is a tourist? He could be flying in a day or so before the murder, finding a suitable victim and killing them before flying back out again."

"Something else to be checked, I suppose." Galetti stated. "It might be worth having the airlines go through their records for the dates around each murder to see if the same name pops up." He thought for a moment. "And the rental agencies too; he'd need to have wheels." Pulling out his notebook, he jotted it down. "I'll get Harris on it this afternoon."

"Grissom needs to be told too." Vega pointed out. "We promised we'd keep him informed."

"I'll take care of that." Catherine told him. "There's something else I need to see him about anyway so I'll drop by on my way home."

Turning from the window, Greg gestured back over his shoulder. "Is it all right if I take him in a drink?"

"Sure; no problem." Vega nodded distractedly. "And you can tell him we won't be much longer, okay; another five minutes or so."

Pushing open the door of the interrogation room, Greg smiled warmly as he carried the ice-cold bottle of water across to the waiting man. "Here you go; I thought you could probably do with this."

"Thanks man, I appreciate it." Unscrewing the cap, Martin nodded towards the entrance. "Any idea when they're coming back?"

"Oh, it won't be long now; I don't think you've got anything to worry about." Pulling out a chair, Greg quickly made himself at home. "So... about that Mustang."

* * *

"Catherine!" Pulling open the condo's front door, Sara found herself confronted with one of the last people she'd been expecting and, mind whirring quickly, she attempted to come up with a plausible excuse for her presence in 'Grissom's apartment'. "I, uh, I was just-"

"Yeah, yeah; I know what you were _just_." Unable to help herself, Catherine broke into a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "So, how about we cut the crap and you invite me into your home?"

Moving back, Sara opened the door fully and ushered her guest into the apartment. "You know?"

"Of course I do." Stepping inside, the older woman rolled her eyes at the question. "Jeez, Sara, I get paid to be observant; did you seriously think the two of you were going to get something _that_ big by me?"

Walking by her, Sara descended the stairs. "And yet you never said anything."

"Well that would have spoilt all the fun." Following the younger woman down to the kitchen, Catherine examined the large open-plan space with interest. "It's a great place, Sara, much nicer than the townhouse." She nodded towards the walls. "How'd you get him to lose the insect theme?"

"I didn't." Sara admitted with a grin, beginning to relax in the other woman's company. "There's still a few of them around but I like to think that this place reflects both our tastes." Pulling out two cups, she placed them on the counter. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee would be good." Dragging out one of the stool, Catherine took a seat. "So, where is he?"

"Asleep the last time I checked." Filling the kettle at the sink, Sara nodded towards the back of the apartment. "He got up for an hour or so first thing this morning but ended up going back to bed; he tires easily at the moment."

"Well that's understandable." Catherine looked on as she switched the water on to boil. "And there have been no problems since he's been home?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned." Sara smiled happily "I slept better last night than I have in days."

"I imagine you both did." Catherine returned the smile briefly before getting down to business. "Look Sara, one of the reasons I came by this morning was to ask you for a favor."

"Me?" Wary of the tone, the younger woman was instantly suspicious. "What sort of favor?"

"Well..." Catherine shifted nervously on her seat, all too aware of how her request was likely to be received. "We're going to be _seriously_ understaffed tonight and I was hoping-"

"Oh, Cath, I don't know." Staring at her colleague, Sara shook her head. "Grissom's been home less than a day _and_ I am still on medical leave myself, remember?"

"I know, Sara and, believe me, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate but Swing's been decimated by this flu that's going around and half of Dayshift's in court tomorrow for that bikie case they worked last year so I can hardly expect them to help us out." She looked across with pleading eyes. "Ecklie's scrambling like crazy trying to find some help for all of us but there's no way he's going to be able to get someone in time for shift tonight and Jim did mention that you're feeling a lot better than you were."

"Now that the antibiotics have kicked in, yeah, I'm feeling good but, like I said Cath, he's only been home one night." Sara shrugged. "I don't know how I feel about leaving him alone so soon."

"Will you at least think about it?" Catherine asked hopefully. "You really would be helping us out of a tight spot and it _would_ only be for tonight; as soon as shift's over you'll be straight back on leave."

"I'll give it some thought but I'm not promising anything, okay?" With a sigh, Sara turned back to the now-boiling kettle. "I'll talk it over with Grissom and see what he thinks and _then_ I'll let you know."

She was about to begin filling the cups when her cell phone rang and, picking it up from its place on the counter, Sara flipped it open.

"Sidle." She was silent for a moment as she listened to her caller. "Oh, Ms. Thomas, thank you for calling me back."

Striding across to the dining table, she moved the morning paper out of the way and picked up a small well-thumbed booklet. Watching her with interest, Catherine could just make out the words 'Loss' and 'Remembrance' on the front cover before it was opened up and Sara spoke again.

"I'm after some more information about one of your-" Glancing up quickly, she noted Catherine's interest and smiled into the phone. "Would you mind holding for a moment, Ms. Thomas?"

Placing her hand over the phone, she cocked her head towards the rear of the apartment. "You want to go through and see if he's awake, Cath? He's due his painkillers anyway so you won't be disturbing him."

"I can take a hint." Knowing she's been caught out; Catherine pushed to her feet with a wry grin and headed towards the hallway. "Which door is it?"

"First on your right." Sara told her with a relieved smile. "Tell him I'll be in with his meds in five minutes or so; I'll bring the coffee with me too."

"I'll let him know." Turning into the short hallway, Catherine made her way to the bedroom door and, after knocking lightly, she turned the knob and let herself in.

A low warning growl greeted her entrance and she froze in place as the dog on the bed, his head resting protectively on his master's thigh, studied her intently as he tried to determine whether she was friend or foe.

The growl shut down immediately as a reassuring hand was placed on the boxer's head.

"It's okay, Hank, she's not the enemy." After a couple of soothing caresses, Grissom felt the tension in the big dog's body relax and, satisfied that all was well, he turned his attention to his visitor. "I thought I heard your voice."

"I'm sorry." With her eyes fixed firmly on the dog, Catherine moved further into the room. "I hope we didn't disturb you."

"No, I was awake." Seeing her unease, he urged her forward. "You can come and sit on the bed if you like; Hank won't mind, now that he knows you're a friend."

With a dubious smile, Catherine perched on the edge of the bed and was surprised when the dog, all signs of aggression now gone, inched himself closer towards her. Holding out her hand, she let the boxer sniff her thoroughly before reaching up to ruffle his fur.

"Hey, Hank." Running her hand back and forth across his head, she was rewarded with the boxer equivalent of a grin. "You're a good boy, aren't you? Looking after your dad like that."

Dodging the lolling tongue, she looked at Grissom with a grin. "How are you doing?"

"Better." He carefully pushed himself up one handed, mindful of the stitches that lined his stomach. "Especially now I'm home."

"It's always better when you're home." Gently pushing the dog away from her, Catherine watched as he settled himself once again beside his master before she looked across at her friend with just the hint of a teasing smile. "Especially when you have someone to come home too."

Grissom rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough." She grinned at the impatient look that statement brought. "Hey, you two started dancing round each other the minute she rolled into town, Gil and it was only a matter of time before you got together; anyone with half a brain could see that."

"Anyone but me apparently." Grissom offered her a rueful smile. "I wasted all those year backing away from her, Cath." He shook his head. "I was an idiot."

"No you weren't." Reaching across, she patted his hand. "Look, you could have jumped into bed with her all those years ago and it probably would have burnt itself out in a matter of weeks; trust me, I know that from my own experience. Instead, you both spent the time discovering what it was that you really wanted and building the basis of the relationship you have today; I only wish I'd been half as smart."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose." Uncomfortable with such an in-depth scrutiny of his private life, Grissom sought a change of subject. "But, I'm sure you didn't come here to play relationship counselor so…" One eyebrow arced in question. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With a resigned sigh, Catherine got down to business. "I wanted to let you know about the interview with Ross Martin." She shook her head. "You were right, Gil; he's not our guy."

"I'm sorry, Cath." Seeing the disappointment in her face, Grissom's tone softened in sympathy." I know you were hoping he was the one."

"Yeah, well." She nodded dejectedly. "If wishes were horses..."

"Beggars would ride." Grissom finished with a smile. "It seldom works out the way we want it to, does it? It seemed like a viable lead, Cath; it had to be checked."

"I know." Catherine shrugged it off with a smile. "I'll just sulk about it for a little while longer and then get on with things, I guess." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a familiar cell phone. "And, before I forget, I thought you might like this back; we're finished with it now and there's no point in it sitting round the lab any longer than it has to."

"Thanks, Cath." Taking it from her, he slipped it onto the bedside cabinet. "How are you getting along with Feds?

"Galetti's okay but I'm not too sure about Harris." One shoulder rose in a casual shrug. "He's kind of... standoffish. You recognized him, didn't you?"

"Yeah, from the Goggle case." Grissom nodded. "And, from the way our first meeting went, I think it's fair to say that the man has some issues with me."

"I wouldn't let it worry you too much." Catherine smiled at the statement. "I get the feeling Agent Harris is the type to have 'issues' with almost everyone." Looking at her friend, she cocked her head. "Could I ask you a favor?"

Leaning forward slightly, Grissom adjusted the pillow behind his back. "There's no harm in asking."

"It's just..." Unsure whether she was doing the right thing or not, Catherine hesitated slightly before pushing on. "I know Sara's still on leave and I know she wants to be here just now but... do you think there's anyway you could convince her to come in for shift tonight?"

Grissom frowned. "You're tapped out?"

"Big time." She confirmed with a nod. "And, at the moment, she's the only back up that I have."

"And you've asked her about it?"

"Of course; she said she'd think about it but..." She shrugged. "I have promised her it would only be this one time but she's worried about leaving you alone."

"She needn't be; I'd be fine." Annoyed at the inference, Grissom bristled slightly at the words.

"Well, perhaps if you told her that..." She let the rest of the suggestion hang.

He was silent as he thought it through. "I'll tell you what: I'll talk her into helping you out tonight on one condition - if she goes out on a case, she doesn't go alone." He instantly amended it. "Actually, that goes for all of you; I don't want anybody working by themselves. I don't want to give this guy the opportunity to take another pop at one of us."

Catherine frowned, suddenly concerned. "You think he'll come after us again?"

"I have no idea." Grissom told her honestly. "This thing's completely off-script at the moment so there's no predicting what he'll do." He sighed. "The only thing I know for sure is that we are _not_ going to make ourselves targets – if people go out, they go out in pairs at least."

"Okay, that sounds sensible." She nodded her agreement. "It might make things kind of tight for us but I'll make sure everyone follows the rules." She glanced up hopefully. 'And Sara?"

"Will be there." Grissom gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Catherine; you'll have a full team behind you tonight."

* * *

"You sure you'll be all right?" Smoothing an errant crease out of the front of her freshly ironed shirt, Sara glanced up with an apprehensive frown. "I don't like the thought of leaving you alone so soon."

"Sara, I'm going to be fine." Relaxing back against the headboard, Grissom scanned his immediate surroundings. "I've got my books, my crosswords, the TV remote and enough food and water to satisfy an army; the only reason I'll have for getting out of this bed is to go to the bathroom and, even then, I only have to walk a few yards and I'm there." He offered her a reassuring smile. "So stop worrying and go to work; you're going to be late."

"Where's your meds?" Pulling on a lightweight jacket, she anxiously eyed the items on the bed. "And your phone? What have you done with your phone?"

"They're all on the bedside where you left them." He pointed out patiently as she searched her pockets for her keys. "And I know exactly what I'm supposed to take _and_ when I supposed to take it so you don't need to panic about that either."

"I am not panicking." Pushing her own cell phone into one the pockets, she glared defensively.

"You're getting close." He softened the observation with a smile. "Just go, honey, Hank and I'll be fine; we'll probably both sleep the whole time you're gone anyway."

"Okay, okay." Realizing that she couldn't put it off any longer, Sara took a deep breath before rounding the side of the bed. "I've put newspaper down in the other bathroom so, if Hank needs to go out, he's going to have to either use that or keep his legs crossed until I get home." Bending over, she leaned in for a kiss. "Under no circumstances are you to try and take him out, okay? There's no way you'd be able to walk him at the moment anyway and the last thing I need is another night spent in the emergency room."

"I wouldn't even consider it." Grissom told her truthfully. "I know my limitations and, I promise, I'm not going to do anything stupid while you're gone."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it" Reaching over, Sara ruffled the boxer's ears and was rewarded with a slow wag. "You look after him, baby; I'm relying on you, okay?" She chuckled as the tail picked up speed. "That's my boy"

Pushing to her feet, she backed her way to the door. "You promise you'll call me if you need anything?"

"I promise." Grissom assured her. "But if you don't get going Catherine's going to be the one on the phone and that's something _I_ can do without."

"I'm gone." With a final grin, Sara turned from the room and, a few seconds later, Grissom heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being pulled closed as she finally left the apartment. With a smile of his own, he patted the big dog's head. "What do you say, Hank; fifteen minutes before she finds an excuse to call and check up on us?" Reaching for the television remote, he amended his guess. "Better make that twenty; the traffic on Charleston can be pretty slow this time of night."

Flicking through the channels, he stopped briefly on the local news before continuing on to the sports channels and had just settled back to watch the roundup of the day's ball games when his cell phone chirped to life.

"Shows how much we know, huh?" Reaching to his right, Grissom grabbed hold of his phone as he snuck a quick look at the clock. "She lasted a whole five minutes."

Flicking the handset open, he didn't bother checking the screen.

"Grissom."

"Thank God for that!"

Taken aback by the unexpected statement, he frowned. "Excuse me?

"Do you have any idea how long I've had to wait to speak to you?" The tone was clipped; it's owner's impatience and frustration coming clearly down the line. "It's about time she left you alone."

Pulling the cell from his ear, Grissom stared at it hoping for a clue to the caller's identity and froze when he saw the number displayed on the screen. He took a deep breath in before raising the phone once again. "Who is this?

"You know what?" Amused by the sudden change in his tone, the caller chuckled. "I am _really_ insulted that you don't recognize my voice."

"Am I supposed to?"

"Well, I'd have thought so." Standing in the street below, Ellie Brass looked up at the tall apartment building and grinned. "After all, I am the mother of your only child."

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 27**

"What do you want?" Staring blankly at the TV screen in front of him, Grissom's fingers tightened around the cell phone in his hand.

"I need to see you." With the laughter now gone from her voice, Ellie's tone was almost conversational. "There are some things we need to discuss."

"You're joking, right?"

It was a rhetorical question, he'd been expecting this call for the last two weeks, but Ellie answered it anyway.

"Actually, I'm not." Leaning back against the side of her car, she smiled. "In fact, I'm right outside your building; I can be up there in minutes."

"Oh no, no way." Wedging the phone between his shoulder and jaw, Grissom eased himself off the bed. "The last time I spent time alone with you it led to a paternity suit and I am _not _setting myself up for another one." Carefully reaching out, he balanced himself against the wall as he stood. "The way my luck's running at the moment, it'd probably be twins."

"I'm not pregnant, I promise you." Ellie hurried to reassure him. "Believe me, once was more than enough." She stared across the street at the building's entrance doors. "So, can I come up or what?"

"Ellie, you took out a restraining order against me, remember?" Pulling open the bedroom door, he slowly made his way down the hallway. "I don't remember the exact details but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be anywhere within two hundred feet of you _or_ your child."

"Screw the restraining order, I only took that out because my attorney suggested it; well, that and the fact that I knew it would drive my father nuts." She chuckled. "It was always _so _easy to get a rise out of that man."

"That man, as you called him, has just spent the past couple of weeks doing everything possible to find you." Bypassing the kitchen, he stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the apartment's door. "Why are you doing this to him, Ellie?"

"Because I can." She answered simply. "Now, do I get to come up or not?"

"I've already said no and I meant it." Squinting, Grissom focused on the lock and satisfied himself that the door was secure. "So, you either tell me what you want over the phone or you come back when there's someone else here because you are not getting into this apartment tonight."

"Hang on a minute." Ignoring the ultimatum, Ellie frowned. "You don't sound surprised to hear from me."

"That's because I'm not." Turning from the stairs, he took a seat at the dining table and, after putting the phone on loudspeaker, placed it down on the table in front of him. "I figured it was only a matter of time before you got in touch; after all, I don't imagine for a minute that you went to all the trouble of naming me on your son's birth certificate _just_ to annoy your father." Feeling a wet nose push against his leg, he reached down and ruffled the boxer's fur. "So, what are you really after?"

"What everyone's after..." Her answer was straightforward and to the point. "Money."

"So, what?" Grissom shrugged. "I pay up and you leave me alone?"

"Something like that; yeah." A sudden cool breeze sprang up and Ellie tugged her jacket closer around herself as her voice took on a business-like tone. "I though ten grand would do for a start; that should at least get the paternity case dropped. After that, we can negotiate on what it's going to cost you to remove your name from Caleb's records."

"I see." Pretending to ponder the 'offer', Grissom paused for a beat. "Well, for that kind of money, I think the least you can do is answer a couple of questions for me."

"Okay." Confident that she was about to get her way, she relaxed. "I can do that."

"Why me?"

It was the obvious first question and she met it with a laugh. "Why not you?"

"Ellie."

Look, you were..." She struggled for an appropriate description. "... decent to me when I was here last time; I guess you made an impression

"I made an easy mark, you mean." Grissom rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. "You stole my wallet."

"Yeah, well you were asking for it; you ought to know better than to leave it in the console when you go to pay for gas." Fumbling a cigarette from its packet, she stuck it between her lips. "Especially when you've got somebody like me in the passenger seat."

"I was trying to help you out, you know." Grissom pointed out. "You and your dad."

"Maybe that's why I chose you then." Uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, she resorted to sarcasm. "Every kid's got to have a role model right?"

Grissom ignored the caustic question. "Where is he?"

"Who, Caleb?" Flicking her lighter she held it to the end of the cigarette. "He's safe."

"That's not what I asked, Ellie?"

"He's with a friend."

"Here in town?"

There was silence as she took a deep drag. "Maybe."

Realizing he was getting nowhere, Grissom changed tack.

"What's the money for then; do you need it for the baby?"

"Some of it, yeah but mainly, I need it for me."

He winced at the obvious implications of her response. "Are you using again?"

"No." For the first time in the conversation, it sounded like a genuine answer and Grissom felt himself relax a little. "I managed to kick that while I was pregnant and I've been clean ever since." She chuckled. "You don't need to worry; your money won't be lining the pockets of the local pushers."

There was one more question he needed to ask although Grissom was sure neither he nor Jim was going to like the answer. "Are you working at the moment?"

"You mean on the streets?" Ellie laughed openly at the query. "Hey, I wish I could tell you that I wasn't but the father of my kid's doing everything that he can to wriggle his way out of paying child support and I've gotta do something to keep a roof over the little bastard's head."

Offended by the term she'd used to describe her own child, Grissom snapped. "Don't call him that!"

"Paternal feeling's starting to kick in there, daddy?" She laughed again but this time it had a harsh, cold quality to it. "All you've got to do is pay up and I promise I'll never call him names again."

"You know, I think the best thing you can do at the moment is call your father." Patience worn thin, Grissom decided he'd had enough. "He's in a much better position to help you out at the moment than I am."

"Now you're the one who's joking, right?" Ellie scoffed at the proposal. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Simple." He informed her. "I don't need to pay you to to set myself free, Ellie; the court will do that when they find in my favor because, as we both know, DNA test or no DNA test, Caleb is not my child." He sighed. "Jim, however, _is_ his grandfather and if you need help of any kind then _that's_ where you need to go."

"Yeah, I can imagine the type of help he'd offer." Realizing that at least one part of her carefully nurtured plan was steadily unraveling, Ellie angrily tossed her cigarette down and ground it into the sidewalk. "I am _not_ calling my father."

"How about if I do it for you then?" Loyalty to Jim made him make the offer. "I'll phone him now and we can set up a meeting between the two of you. He wants to help you, Ellie - you and Caleb."

"No." The determination in the young woman's voice carried clearly down the phone line. "He's one half of the double-act that screwed me up; do you seriously think I'm going to let him near my kid?" The line was silent for a moment before she spoke again, her voice softening slightly as she remembered a long-ago conversation. "I told my father once before that it was way too late and nothing's happened since then to change my mind."

"Look, this is going nowhere." Tired and frustrated, Grissom ran his hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers met the line of surgical staples behind his right ear. "I've offered you help and you've turned me down so I don't see much point in continuing this conversation tonight." Gently pushing the dog's head off his lap, he slowly got to his feet. "If you change your mind, give me another call and I'll speak to your dad for you but, right now, the only thing I'm going to do is turn my phone off and go to bed. Goodnight, Ellie."

"Wait!"

Hearing the almost shouted entreaty, Grissom's finger paused above the disconnect key and he sighed impatiently. "What is it now?"

"I've got another deal for you."

"You're not getting any money off me, Ellie; I thought I'd explained that."

"Oh, this is nothing to do with the kid." She assured him. "You may not be willing to pay up for him but I'd like to bet there's something else I can interest you in."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I witnessed everything that happened the other night behind your lab." Settling back against the car's fender, Ellie smirked as she played her recently acquired trump card. "In fact, I saw the person who attacked you."

Stunned by her words, Grissom stared at the open cell phone as he sank back down onto his seat. "You're lying."

"Actually, this is one of the few times that I'm not." Confident that she had his full attention, Ellie's tone turned smug. "I'd been following you since the beginning of the week trying to get you alone and, when I saw you out the back that night, I thought I'd finally got my chance. I was all set to come in and announce my arrival when I saw someone dressed in black come along the street, slip in through the gate and disappear around the back of that garage you were working in." She paused to ensure that he was taking it all in. "A couple of minutes later, you came and stood outside while you were talking on your cell phone." She chuckled. "You looked straight at my car at one point and I was sure you'd seen me but, obviously, you didn't."

"The blue sedan." Grissom gasped as a picture from that night suddenly appeared in his mind. "I thought I'd seen movement but decided that I was wrong."

"That was me." Ellie confirmed. "Not long after that, you went back inside the garage and the next thing I know, the doors were being pulled down and the only thing I could hear was the sound of that car motor still running away inside."

Propping his elbow on the table, Grissom cradled his suddenly aching head in his hand. "Why the hell didn't you do something?"

"Hey, I tried calling you." She replied, suddenly defensive. "First couple of times all I got was a busy signal then, when I did get through, it just rang out."

"You could have dialed 911, Ellie." He pointed out with a sigh. "For God's sakes, you're father's a police officer."

"You know, I'm not really the type of person that goes around reporting crimes; it kind of goes against my nature." She shrugged dismissively. "Besides, a couple of minutes later, your attacker came running out from the back of the garage again and took off down the street."

"So you just drove off and left me there." Biting back the anger that her apparent indifference had caused, Grissom took a deep breath before continuing. "Did they see you?"

"No." Ellie shook her head, positive of her answer. "I was parked in the shadows; they wouldn't have seen a thing."

"But you could identify them?" He asked hopefully. "Give us a full description?"

"I could." She replied confidently. "But, before I do that, we're going to have to discuss my fee so, if you just tell me what floor you're on, I'll be up there in a couple of minutes."

"No." Regardless of what she may or may not have seen that night, Grissom did not want her anywhere near his home. "We can discuss it but I'm not making any promises regarding your 'fee' and we certainly won't be doing it here." He thought for a moment. "If you like, I can meet you in my office tomorrow and we can talk about it then."

"Uh-uh." A sudden flash lit up the street and Ellie looked up to see sheet lightning spreading across the night's sky. "It has to be now; I can't hang around here any longer." Her voice hardened. "We either do this tonight or we don't do it at all."

"All right." With a resigned sigh, Grissom acceded to her demand. "I'll meet you tonight but it has to be somewhere public; I am not getting caught alone with you again. "

"Coward." Staring at the glass doors of the apartment building, Ellie grinned. "Okay, where then?"

Frowning, he weighed up his options; as much as he wanted other people around them, he knew that in his current condition, he'd never be able to handle a crowd. Thinking quickly, he opted for one of the city's quieter casinos. "You know where the Palace Station is? Out on West Sahara."

"That's not far from where I'm staying." She told him. "I'm sure I'll find it."

"Good, there's an Irish bar on the main floor; I'll meet you in there." Looking across towards the kitchen, he checked the clock. "You're going to have to give me some time to get changed though _and_ I'm going to have to call a cab; I can't drive myself."

"How long do you need?"

"I'm not sure." Grissom answered truthfully as he tried to mentally work through the logistics of exchanging his old, well-worn t-shirt and pajama pants for more suitable attire. "Better make it an hour maybe a little more."

"I'll wait ninety minutes and that's it." Fishing her car keys from her jacket pocket, Ellie jiggled them impatiently in her hand. "If you haven't turned up by then, I'm leaving." She was about to hang up when another thought occurred to her. "Oh, and if I see my father anywhere around the place, the whole thing's off."

"I wasn't going to bring him, Ellie." Grissom assured her.

"Maybe not." She conceded. "But I'm sure you're going to call him and fill him in on our little conversation."

"He deserves to know what's going on."

"No, trust me, he doesn't." Pulling the car door open, she climbed inside. "And if I so much as _think_ he's hanging around that place, you can kiss your description goodbye." Pushing the key into the ignition, she started the car's engine. "You got that?"

"I got it."

"Good." Confident that she'd made her point, Ellie smiled. "I'll see you soon then."

Hearing the sharp click of her disconnecting phone, Grissom took a deep, cleansing breath as he reached across the table for his own handset and, without a moment's hesitation, began to dial her father's number.

* * *

"I think we can definitely say that _this_ is the stolen money." With one gloved finger, Sara held open the plastic bag full of stained notes as Nick focused his camera. Glancing up, she addressed the uniformed officer who was standing guard over the find. "Who found it?"

"One of the croupiers from the Mirage was on his way to work; he uses this street as a short cut." Stepping back out of the CSI's way, Collins glanced around the rundown semi-industrial area and decided that the croupier was a much braver man than himself. "He called it in a couple of minutes after we arrested the perp so it didn't take too much to put it all together."

"And that was just a block or so from here, right?"

"Yep, we found him down on Flamingo." He chuckled. "You see a lot of weird sights on the streets of Vegas but I'm willing to bet he's the only person out tonight that looks like a purple bomb's just blown up in his face."

"The report we got said he's the same guy that's robbed that liquor store three times in the past two months." Satisfied that he had what he'd need, Nick stepped away from the abandoned bag. "Jackass probably should have known it was only a matter of time before his they started fighting back."

"Well, a dye pack slipped in along with the cash is a much safer way of going about it than trying to take on your attacker with a baseball bat." Sara commented as she pushed to her feet. "Especially against a gun." She frowned at Collins. "He didn't have that on when he was arrested, did he?"

"No." The officer shook his head. "We're missing the gun and the jacket he was wearing at the store."

"He probably dumped the jacket because it caught most of the dye." Nick frowned as he looked around the deserted street. "I'll bet he tossed them both around here somewhere."

"That's what we figured." Collins told them. "So, we cordoned off the street at both ends and waited for you guys to turn up."

"Well, if they are around here we better find them quickly." Glancing skyward, Sara watched as large dark clouds obliterated the moon. "According to the weather report we've got storms coming in and, by the looks of that, they're not too far away." Pulling a large plastic evidence bag from her kit, she quickly bagged the money then looked up again as a heavy rumble of thunder sounded from the north. "You want to run up and bring the Denali closer, Nick? We don't want to get caught out when the rain starts."

"We're supposed to stay together, remember?" Packing the camera away into his own case, Nick gave her a disapproving look. "I do not want to be the one to face Catherine if something happens because I'm was at one end of this damn road and you're at the other."

"Nick, it's only a hundred yards or so." Sara pointed impatiently at the yellow tape fluttering in the wind at the southern entrance to the street. "It'll only take a minute or two and while you're doing that Collins can help me start the search." Softening her tone slightly, she offered him an indulgent smile. "I don't think Catherine meant us to become joined at the hip, you know."

"It's not really Catherine I'm worried about." Nick muttered under his breath as he clipped his case shut and placed it on the sidewalk safely out of harms way.

He knew he was coming across as over-protective but Grissom's 'no one works alone' edict coupled with Catherine's non-too subtle reminders about the dangers they faced and her pleas to 'watch each other's backs' had set his nerves on edge to begin with. Add to that the discovery he'd made at the hospital regarding the true nature of his co-workers relationship and the pressure of his responsibility had been steadily building from the moment he and, what he now knew to be, his boss' girlfriend were paired for the night.

Ignoring the pointed glare he was receiving from his colleague, he stared past her to address the waiting patrolman. "Okay Collins, I'm going to go get our truck and, while I'm gone, I want _you_ to watch _her_." He jabbed his thumb in Sara's direction. "She's _your_ responsibility, got that?"

"Just go, Nick." Annoyed by both his tone and the sudden attitude he'd developed, Sara nodded curtly towards the SUV in the distance. "The sooner we get this stuff safely in the Denali the better." Turning her back on him, she looked across at Collins. "Okay Mike, you take that side of the street and I'll take this one. Check everything, okay; if that gun's here, we're going to find it."

Minutes later, Nick brought the big SUV to a halt and, hopping out, packed both his and Sara's cases, as well as the bagged evidence, securely in the trunk before looking further along the street in search of his co-worker. The Denali's powerful headlights illuminated almost the entire road ahead but, whilst he could see Collins clearly, there was absolutely no sign of Sara.

"Hey, Collins?" Frowning, he waited for the patrolman to look up. "Where is she?"

"I'm not sure." Picking his way carefully out of the maze of trashcans he'd been busy checking, Collins scanned up and down the far side of the street. "She was only a yard or two ahead of me." Seeing nothing, he shrugged. "She was there a minute ago."

"Sara?" Moving onto the sidewalk, Nick felt his stomach start to knot. "Hey Sara; come on now."

Approaching a small alleyway that ran between two of the buildings, he heard the unmistakable sound of running feet and quickly picked up his pace. Turning the corner, Collins just inches behind him, Nick saw her at once - lying completely immobile on the ground halfway along the narrow laneway, a dark pool of blood growing steadily around her head.

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 28**

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, be honest - hands up all those who thought they'd be waiting at least another week for this. :)

* * *

The bar at the Palace Station was a quiet one by Vegas standards; its booths and tables occupied by only a handful of customers. A jukebox, currently silent, sat against the rear wall flanked on either side by restrooms, whilst the large screen TV mounted above the old-fashioned wooden bar, had its volume down so low it was only audible to those few drinkers that chose to sit in its vicinity watching the non-stop broadcast of the week's soccer highlights from around the world.

Having chosen a position with a clear view of the establishment's only entrance, Grissom kept his eyes on the door as he listened patiently to the latest in a long line of questions his caller was intent on asking him.

"And she never said anything about the real father?"

"I told you before, Jim; she never mentioned him at all."

"Since this is Ellie were talking about, I'd like to bet that that's because she doesn't have a clue who he is." Brass tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. "If we ever do get a DNA sample from that child maybe we should run it through CODIS; ten to one we'll find him in there."

"Let's just concentrate on getting a witness statement out of her first, huh?" Lifting his glass, Grissom drained the last of his lime and soda. "Once we get that out of the way, we'll see what we can do about Caleb."

"Are you sure she didn't mention where she was staying?"

"I'm positive." Grissom told him. "The only thing she said was that it wasn't too far from Sahara but that's not telling us a whole lot; there's any number of places around here she could be holed up."

"Have you tried calling her again?"

"Of course I have." Frustration and tiredness caused Grissom to snap. "That phone number is the only means I have of contacting her, Jim; I've been trying it every ten minutes or so but the damn thing's turned off."

Realizing he'd been pushing an already exhausted man, Brass' tone softened in sympathy. "I really don't think you should have gone there alone, you know."

"It's not like I had a lot of choice, is it? If Ellie's telling the truth about the other night then she's the first actual witness we've managed to come across. I had to come out here and I had to do it alone; she made it clear that she wanted to talk to me and not anyone one else."

"Meaning me." Jim pointed out needlessly. "Look Gil, I know my daughter well and, take it from me, the operative words there were 'if Ellie's telling the truth'."

"I'm sure that she was." Grissom insisted. "She knew about the garage, she knew about me standing outside while I called Elaine and she knew that the Mustang was left idling when my attacker left; she had to have been there, there's no other way she could have known all of that."

"Maybe she picked it up from the papers and the TV news." Brass suggested. "They both covered the story."

"The first and third points; yes." Grissom conceded. "But not about me being on the phone _and_ the number that she called me from tonight was the same one that Galetti asked me about at the hospital. She was there, Jim; I'm sure of it."

"Well, all right; maybe she was but that doesn't necessarily mean she's going to give you what you want; she did say she wanted paid for the description, remember."

"And if the information she gives us leads to a conviction she will be; I'm sure we can swing a reward for her."

"Yeah." Try as he might, Jim couldn't keep the bitterness out of his laugh. "I can just see Burdick jumping for joy at the prospect of handing over a check to the junkie daughter of one of his officers." He paused for a moment before correcting himself. "Actually, she's not a junkie anymore, is she? She's just a plain old hooker; I should probably be proud."

"Jim."

"I know, I know." Picking up on his friend's censure, Brass heaved a sigh. "Look, whether she was telling the truth or not, I don't think you're going to get that description tonight; from the looks of things, she's stood you up."

"Yeah, I was beginning to think the same thing myself." Grissom checked the clock behind the bar. "I've been here for almost two hours; she should have turned up by now."

"That's Ellie for you." The bitterness was back. "Nobody's ever mattered except her." He sighed. "So, it's up to you, buddy; what do you want to do?"

"I've got to call it quits." Although he was disappointed, Grissom didn't hesitate. "I've got to get home; I need my painkiller _and _I need to get some sleep."

"Okay." Jim was quick to agree. "Find yourself a seat near the entrance and I'll come and pick you up."

"No, I think it'd be better if you don't; for all we know this was a practice run just to see if she can trust me. If you turn up now-"

"She won't get in touch again." Jim finished. "Yeah, you're right." He thought for a second. "How about if I give Sara a call so she can swing by and give you a ride?"

"I don't think a good idea either." With a sheepish smile, Grissom rejected the offer. "If Sara finds out that I've spent half the night here instead of resting up at home like I'm supposed to, I'll never hear the end of it. Besides, they must be having a busy night; she hasn't called to check up on me once."

"I'm sorry about all of this Gil."

"Not your fault." Grissom stifled a yawn. "Look Jim; I've got to go."

"Give me a call when you get home, all right?" Brass ordered. "Just to let me know that you got there safely."

"I will." Pushing his empty glass into the center of the table, Grissom prepared to leave

"Oh, and Gil? Thanks for what you did tonight; I know how much it took for you to go out there and meet with her."

"Well, I'm not going to say it was nothing because we both know I'd be lying but it had to be done." Grissom shrugged wearily. "It may not have worked out this time but hopefully next time she'll actually put in an appearance."

"Have the doorman get you a cab and then make sure the driver waits outside until you're safely back into your building, okay? The last thing I need is a call telling me you collapsed from exhaustion at the front door and nobody found you until morning."

Easing himself slowly along the bench seat, Grissom chuckled at his friend's tone. "Yes, mother."

"Don't be a smartass." Jim chastised. "I'm worried about you, okay? After all, it is my daughter that dragged you out there tonight; if anything happened to you, I'd feel responsible."

"The only thing that's going to happen is that I'm going to go home and fall into bed." Grissom smiled. "But, I will take the time to give you a call before I do that, okay?"

"That's all I'm asking for."

"And you'll get it." Fumbling a twenty from his pocket for the tip jar on the bar counter, Grissom pushed to his feet. 'Give me twenty minutes, Jim: I'll let you know the minute I'm safely at home."

* * *

Striding purposefully through the halls of the crime lab, Conrad Ecklie wondered in amazement at how such a large building, filled with people and equipment, could actually be so silent.

Although never the noisiest of workplaces, the mood tonight was especially somber; a few curious techs glancing up as he passed by but, for the most part, heads were down and conversations kept to a minimum as everyone concentrated on the job at hand.

Turning the final corner, Conrad realized that he'd only experienced this kind of atmosphere once before – seven years earlier following the death of Holly Gribbs. Shrugging off the memory, he allowed himself a small smile as he spotted his quarry up ahead, seated alone at the break room table.

"I'm sorry Catherine; I didn't think it would take me so long to get back here." Skirting the large table, Ecklie headed straight for the coffee pot. "There was a roll-over just east of the Pahrump off ramp and we had to wait for traffic to clear."

Looking up from the report she was studying, Catherine frowned. "You were in Pahrump?"

"The Under Sheriff and I were at a dinner meeting with the Highway Patrol's area commander when the call came through." He explained as he took a seat opposite. "We left straight away but, like I said, we got held up. I dropped McKeen off at PD on the way; he wanted to make sure that everything was under control there." Realizing that she wasn't really interested, he glanced around the almost empty room. "Where's your guys?"

"Warrick and Greg are still at the scene." She sighed heavily, the effects of the past few hours plain to see. "Not that they can do anything out there, of course..." Flipping the report she'd been reading closed, she shrugged. "I think they just want to make sure that Sheehan and his guys handle everything correctly."

"And Stokes?"

"He's downstairs in the morgue." Raising her cup, Catherine drained it of it's now cold contents before placing it back down with a grimace. "He rode in with her and has been down there ever since; I think he plans on staying with her until..." She glanced up quickly, her eyes glistening with moisture. "... you know."

Sipping from his own cup, Ecklie gave her a moment to compose herself.

"I spoke to Detective Vega a little while ago." He watched her closely, expecting a reaction but when none came, he continued. "You sure you want to be the one to tell Gil?"

"Yeah, I think that would be best." With a determined nod, Catherine pushed to her feet. "I know Sam said he'd do it but he's got enough on his plate." Picking up her empty cup, she tossed it carelessly into the sink. "That's where I'm heading now."

"I'll drive you over." Abandoning his own cup, Ecklie stood. "I can't do anything here just now anyway."

"You don't have to do that, Conrad." Removing her jacket from the back of her seat, Catherine quickly shrugged it on. "I don't mind going alone."

"I _want_ to do it, Catherine." Ecklie was quick to assure her. "Besides, I imagine Gil will want to come in here and you'll probably need a hand getting him in and out of the car."

Realizing that he was right, Catherine gratefully acquiesced. "You know where he lives?"

"Actually, I know where _they_ live; it's just a couple of blocks from my place." Fumbling in his jacket pocket, Conrad pulled out his car keys before gesturing towards the door. "Come on then, let's get this over and done with."

* * *

Pulling himself up the stairs for the second time in one night, Grissom muttered under his breath as he watched the boxer dance excitedly in front of the closed door.

He'd been sound asleep, the exertion from his night's activities and the two Percocet he'd downed upon his return, knocking him out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow but the insistent knocking on the front door and Hank's reaction to it had quickly woken him from his slumber.

He paused as he reached the top and took a moment to slow his breathing before covering the final few feet to the entryway.

"Okay buddy, back up a bit." Fumbling awkwardly with the deadbolt, Grissom waited for the dog to move out of the way before finally pulling the door open.

"Catherine." Blinking in the glare of the hallway light's, he frowned in confusion at her unexpected appearance. What are you-"

He knew as soon as Ecklie stepped in beside her that the news was bad.

"Oh God." Grissom's grip on the open door tightened as fear took hold. "God, no!"

Reeling in shock and fear, he turned from the entrance, his good hand clamping over his mouth as bile rushed up to fill his throat.

Realizing what was happening; Catherine was through the doorway in seconds, Ecklie just inches behind her.

"Conrad, get him to the couch." Stepping backwards out of the way, Catherine took charge. "Quickly, before he goes down."

As the room began to spin around him, Grissom felt himself grabbed; one surprisingly strong arm curling around his waist while a hand clamped firmly to his upper arm in an effort to keep him upright. Unable to put up any resistance, he allowed himself to be steered back towards the couch and eased down onto the nearest of the leather cushions.

"Gil? It's all right; just try to breathe normally, okay?" Squatting down in front of him, Catherine balanced herself against his knee as she tried to get his attention. Glancing back at Conrad, she gestured towards the stairs. "Go down to the kitchen and get him some water."

As he quickly obeyed, she turned her attention back to her friend. "Gil, it's not about Sara; I promise you, she's fine."

He looked up with tortured eyes, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to get enough air into his lungs.

"You've got to slow your breathing down." Knowing how quickly an already hazardous situation could worsen, Catherine gave his leg a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, Gil, the last thing you want to do in your condition is hyperventilate."

Staring into the eyes of the woman in front of him, Grissom searched desperately for the truth. "Not her?"

"No, she's fine, honestly, so just take it easy and settle down." Turning at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, she took the glass Ecklie offered her and pressed it into Grissom's hand. "Here; sip it, don't gulp."

Following instructions, he sipped slowly from the glass as he concentrated on pacing his breathing until it returned to normal. "She's really all right?"

"Well, she was involved in an incident earlier tonight when she witnessed a mugging and tried to run down the assailant by herself _and_ she will be the very deserving recipient of one hell of a reaming out when I get the chance to do it." For the first time since arriving, Catherine allowed herself a small smile. "But, I assure you, she's perfectly fine and currently helping out Vega and Vartann so she couldn't be in safer hands."

"Thank God for that." Sliding the half-empty water glass onto the coffee table, Grissom took a deep, calming breath. "Why _are_ you here then?"

"We got a call from dispatch a couple of hours ago." Pushing to her feet, Catherine took a seat beside him on the couch. "A couple of teenagers found a body in one of the parks off Oakey Boulevard; it looks like our killer's struck again."

"Again?" Surprised, Grissom glanced from Catherine to Ecklie and back again. "But it's too soon."

"Too soon or not, the MO fits; we're positive that it's him." Following his example, Catherine took her own deep breath before continuing. "And _that's_ what we're doing here." She paused for just a second, her eyes locking with his and Grissom knew what was coming before she voiced it. "It was Ellie, Gil; tonight's victim was Ellie Brass."

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 29**

**

* * *

A/N: **Before we start, I want to thank you all for your patience and understanding over the past six weeks. I know I said I was only taking a short break from the story but it's taken a lot longer than I expected to deal with everything and, of course, come to terms with what's happened.

I especially want to thank everyone who sent messages after my last posting; I really should have replied to them individually but, to be honest, they completely overwhelmed me. Your sympathy and offers of support really blew me away and I want you all to know that I appreciate them and _you _more than I can possibly express here.

* * *

As the door she'd spent the past ten minutes staring at finally swung open, Sara felt the hand she held tense automatically and only slacken off again as David Phillips stepped into the corridor, his face breaking into an awkward smile as he gestured back over his shoulder.

"Dr. Robbins said to tell you that he won't be too much longer." Suddenly unsure of himself, the coroner's assistant looked from one person to the other before deciding to address himself to Sara. "He said he'd be out to speak to you in five minutes or so."

"Thank you, David." Grateful for the update, Sara returned the smile and watched as he disappeared back into the autopsy suite before turning her attention to the youngest of the three men who lounged against the wall just feet from her chair. "How long have they been in there now?"

"About twenty minutes." Greg checked his watch before glancing quickly at Warrick for confirmation. "We'd only just got back here when Harris and Galetti arrived and disappeared inside with Doc Robbins; they said they wanted to view the bo-" He broke off suddenly, his eyes swinging towards Brass but the thousand yard stare the homicide captain was currently exhibiting convinced him that his almost-faux pas had slipped by unnoticed. Embarrassed nonetheless, Greg blushed as his gaze returned to Sara. "You know."

"Yeah." Sara smiled gently, aware of her colleague's unease and, hoping to give him a chance to recompose himself, she nodded towards the small break room at the end of the corridor. "How about grabbing us all some coffee, Greg? It looks like we might be here for a while."

"Sure, I can do that." His eyebrows rose in question as he looked over at his other two coworkers. "One of you guys want to help me?"

"I got it." Pushing himself off the wall, Nick sighed wearily. "I could do with a break anyway." Squatting down in front of the two occupied seats, Nick ensured he was directly in Brass' line of sight. "How about you, Jim? You want a coffee?"

"Um..." It took Brass a second to snap back from his reverie. "No thanks, Nick; I'm fine."

"You sure?" Looking up into the detective's tightly drawn face, Nick frowned in concern. "We could make it a cold drink if you'd like; how about some water?"

"Uh-uh." Brass' head moved back and forth as he, once again, rejected the offer. "Unless, of course, Al's got a bottle of single malt stashed away down here." He looked up for the first time, his eyes dry but red rimmed. "I could do with a belt right about now."

"I'm not sure about Doc Robbins but I do know that Griss has a bottle hidden away in his filing cabinet." Warrick chimed in. "I could always run upstairs for you if you like."

"Thanks for the offer, Rick." Switching his attention from one CSI to the other, Jim managed a small smile of gratitude. "But I think I can wait." He sighed deeply as his gaze dropped to the stark white floor. "The least I can do for Ellie now is try and stay sober."

Offering Jim a comforting pat on the knee, Nick pushed to his feet and glanced towards Sara as he nodded down the hall. "We'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Watching the two men wander down the corridor, Sara tightened her hold on Brass' hand as she thought back over his reply; it was, by far, the longest conversation he'd taken part in since their arrival at the morgue and, although she completely understood his desire to lose himself in a bottle, she was pleased that he'd restrained himself for now; there's be time enough for that once the formalities had been taken care of.

The sound of the building's outer door opening pulled her back from to the present and, turning in it's direction, Sara watched as Conrad Ecklie, cell phone clamped tightly to one ear, held the heavy access way ajar before stepping back out of the way to allow his two traveling companions entrance in from the decidedly chilly Las Vegas night.

"Grissom's here, Jim." Leaning in, Sara kept her voice low as she gently untangled his fingers from her own. "I'll just be a minute." She glanced over at Warrick as she got to her feet. "Sit with him, okay? I won't be long."

Without waiting for a reply, she quickly made her way down the corridor, the frown on her face deepening with every step she took.

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, Grissom was obviously in pain; his face was ashen and, as she neared, Sara could clearly make out the sheen of perspiration that covered his usually well-tanned visage. Drawing closer still, she could see the iron-like grip Catherine had on his arm as well as the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Part exasperation, part concern, the statement made for a very blunt welcome and even Sara herself winced at the way it came out. Coming to a halt in front of the trio, she made a conscious effort to soften her tone as she stared into her lover's eyes. "You're supposed to be resting at home."

"I had to come." With his breathing easing slightly, Grissom nodded over her shoulder towards the two men further down the hall. "How's he doing?"

"About what you'd expect." Turning slightly, Sara shrugged. "He insisted on coming down too but he hasn't said much since we got here"

"You went along for the notification?"

"Yeah, Vega thought it might be a good idea." Turning back again, Sara shook her head. "I'm not sure whether it helped or not; I've been present for hundreds of those things but, this time..." She sighed. "... I didn't know what to say."

Knowing from past experience just how impotent she was feeling at that moment, Grissom tried to placate her. "You were there; that's the main thing."

"Um..." Snapping his cell phone closed, Ecklie quickly slipped it into his jacket. "I've got to head over to PD for a while; Burdick's putting together a statement he wants to release to the media in the morning and, apparently, he can't do it without my input."

"That's okay, Conrad; we'll take it from here." Catherine assured him with a smile. "Thanks for the ride in."

"No problem." Fishing his car keys from his pocket, Ecklie jingled them impatiently in his hand. "If there's anything you need, Gil, just give me call and I meant what I said about that dog of yours too; if you need him exercised, let me know, I'm only a couple of blocks away, after all."

"I will, Conrad." With his eyes fixed firmly on the woman before him, Grissom didn't bother to look up. "Thanks for everything."

"He offered to walk Hank for us?" As the door swung shut behind the departing man, Sara chuckled in disbelief. "You know, I'm almost tempted to take him up on it but the thought of Conrad Ecklie turning up at our door dressed in a pair of skin-tight bike shorts is just a little too disturb-" Turning back, she sobered quickly. "God, you're so pale." As Catherine finally released her hold on his Grissom, Sara attempted to take charge of the situation. "Come on, you need to sit down."

"In a minute." Stepping in as close as his arm would allow, he leaned forward until his forehead met hers and let out a slow breath. "Just... just give me a minute, okay?"

Sara's arms came up automatically, one hand on either side of his face as she stared back into frightened, pain-filled eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I thought it was you." Shuddering slightly, Grissom closed his eyes as he remembered the sudden rush of fear and terror that had gripped him earlier at the apartment. "When I opened that door and saw them standing there..."

"We really should have called before we arrived." Catherine commented as she placed a comforting hand on her friend's back. "Fresh out of the hospital and we nearly gave him a heart attack turning up the way we did."

I'm okay, you know; I'm perfectly fine." Dropping her hand, Sara caught hold of his and squeezed tight. "And so are you or, at least you will be as soon as I can get you to sit down."

Slipping her arm around his waist, she urged him forward and, with Catherine bringing up the rear, the threesome slowly made their way back to the impromptu seating area.

From his position beside Brass, Warrick allowed himself a small, knowing smile as he witnessed the unabashed intimacy between his two colleagues. He'd been harboring suspicions about them for months now; suspicions that had strengthened with Sara's behavior in the garage on the night of Grissom's attack and now, here in the hallway of the city morgue, he'd been proven right. Shaking his head at the absurd appropriateness of the situation, he pushed to his feet and gestured towards the newly-vacated chair.

"There you go, Griss; you look like you need a seat more than I do."

"Thanks Warrick." With Sara providing a supporting hand, Grissom eased himself down onto the chair. "Ecklie's not exactly the smoothest of drivers and, having just braced myself through every pothole and speed bump that Vegas has to offer, I'll be glad to sit on something that doesn't move."

"You want anything?" Sara asked, her hand resting protectively on Grissom's shoulder. "Nick and Greg are just in the break room; it'll only take a minute to-"

"No, I'm fine." He cut her off with a smile before turning to the silent man beside him. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"Don't be." With his head down, Brass's voice was little more than a whisper. "It's not like I haven't been expecting it." Looking up, he ignored the people around him to stare at the unmoving autopsy room door. "I've been waiting for that knock on my door for years now; it was never a matter of 'if', only 'when'."

"Oh, Jim." Catherine was quickly at his side, squatting down beside him to take his hand in hers but he shook off the proffered sympathy.

"The only thing that does surprise me is that it doesn't hurt like I thought it would." Finally making eye contact, he stared at Grissom. "We meet people that have just lost their kids every day of the week and I always assumed that they must feel like their heart's just been ripped out of their chests but all I feel is..." He blinked twice as he tried to put the unimaginable into words before giving up with a weary sigh. "I just feel numb."

"That's natural, Jim; its shock, that's all." Reaching across, Grissom laid a comforting hand on the grieving man's arm. "You'll feel it, buddy; trust me, it'll come."

Brass accepted the words with a shrug. "Well, whatever it is, I guess she had a pretty good excuse for not turning up tonight, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Looking from one man to the other, Catherine frowned in confusion. "Turning up where?"

"Ellie called me tonight." With a wince of discomfort, Grissom eased back in his seat. "She wanted to meet."

"Ellie wanted to meet with you?" Dumbstruck, all Catherine could do was stare in amazement. "Tonight?"

"Yes, apparently she's been hanging around waiting for a chance to get me on my own." Turning his head, Grissom looked up at Sara. "She called just after you'd left for work."

"Why would she do that?" Sara shook her head, mystified by the unexpected turn of events.

"To start with, she wanted money." Grissom explained. "And when I refused to give her any she told me she saw who it was that attacked me the other night."

"And you believed her?" Realizing the implications of what she'd just said Catherine turned towards Brass with a mortified stare. "Oh God, Jim; I'm so sorry."

"It's okay; I had the same reaction." He managed a watery smile. "After all, we all know what my daughter is-" He caught himself and sighed. "..._was_ like."

"So, you went out to meet her?" Anger growing by the minute, Sara turned on Grissom. "Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Because I didn't think it was necessary." Raising his good hand in supplication, Grissom tried to explain his actions. "She told me she had information she was willing to give me." Seeing the disbelieving look Sara shot him, he reluctantly changed his wording. "Okay, sell me and so I arranged to meet her somewhere nice and neutral only she never turned up. I guess we know why."

"Where?" Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Sara sighed. "Where did you go to meet her?"

"The Palace Station Casino." Knowing what was coming next, Grissom held his breath.

"The Palace Station?" Catherine almost spat the words out. "But that's just a few blocks away from where she was found."

"Yes Cath." He sighed in resignation. "I am aware of that; after all, I did spend half the night waiting for her there."

"That's good." Standing just feet away, the open autopsy room door directly behind him, Frank Harris couldn't keep the smug grin from his face as he looked from one surprised face to the other before finally coming to rest on Grissom. "Then, I guess, I won't have to explain to you why you're going to be spending the rest of the night locked up in an interview room with me."

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

************************************************************************************************************************

Shadow Play

**Chapter 30**

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm still having a lot of trouble writing Brass (which is a major pain in the butt considering the point this story is up to) but I've been putting him through his paces in another project I've been playing around with so I'm hoping that by doing that I'll be able to break through the problems I'm currently experiencing with this one. Please bear with me, I will get there in the end, and with some luck we'll also be able to pick up the pace a bit too. In the meantime, I just wanted you all to know that I appreciate your continued patience._

_

* * *

_

The harsh, mirthless laugh that filled the hallway took them all by surprise.

"You have got to be joking." Before anyone could react, Brass was on his feet and staring down the smirking FBI agent. "I don't know if it's escaped your notice, Harris but Grissom is having enough trouble just standing up by himself never mind killing someone." Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the man before him. "And even if he wasn't, he is the _last_ person I would even consider as a suspect."

"I don't know why." Harris answered levelly. "The information I've been given is that your daughter was suing him for child support."

"Yes, she was." Jim confirmed. "But I learned long ago never to believe something just because Ellie told me it was so." Pausing for a moment, he closed his eyes against a wave of painful memories. "And, as far as I'm concerned, her claim regarding her son's paternity is just another fantasy."

His sudden burst of anger and adrenaline abating, Jim slumped back into his seat and Catherine slipped a comforting arm around his shoulders as Grissom pushed to his feet.

"Where did you get that information from anyway?" He felt Sara take up a position beside him as he stared at the agent with mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "Nothing about that case is part of the public record."

"Oh, I have my contacts." Harris sneered. "Plus, I've been catching up the gossip that's swirling round that lab of yours." Glancing to the left, he raked his eyes over the woman standing beside Grissom before staring openly at the protective hand Sara had laid on her partner's elbow. "Although, there does seem to be _some_ information I've missed out on." Meeting Grissom's defiant glare once more, Harris grinned. "Guess that explains the display of over-protectiveness you hit us with the last time we worked together, doesn't it."

"There was nothing going on between us during that case, Harris." Feeling Sara's hand slip from his arm, Grissom reached back and grasped it in a tight hold as he fixed the agent with a defiant glare. "What you saw back then was simply the actions of a responsible supervisor trying to ensure the safety of a member of his team; nothing more and nothing less."

"And now?"

"And 'now' is none of your business." Determined to draw the subject to a close, Grissom turned from his adversary to address Sara. "How about taking Jim down to Al's office for a while; I don't think he needs to hear anymore of this."

"It's alright, Gil; nothing that idiot says is going to upset me." Looking up at the two men, Brass shot a contemptuous glare in Harris' direction before offering his friend a small smile. "He can make as many half-assed accusations as he likes; anyone with half a brain knows you're innocent."

"Well, innocent or not, and I am _yet_ to be convinced on that particular score, he was the last person to speak to our victim and he admits to being in the area during the time we believe she was -" Harris pulled himself up quickly as he remembered he was talking to her father. "- attacked." Turning his attention away from Jim, he addressed Grissom once again. "So, you _will_ need to be interviewed and I am going to take great pleasure in conducting it."

"No you're not." Standing in the open doorway, Al Robbins just inches behind, Paul Galetti stared at his colleague. "Going by everything I've just heard, you're not going to get anywhere _near_ that interview room."

"But-" Taken by surprise, Harris spun quickly to face his superior.

"But nothing." Galetti countered. "It's perfectly clear to me that you've got a little vendetta going here, Frank and I'm not about to stand by and watch you compromise an investigation for personal gratification."

"You can't do that." Harris blustered. "That man, whether he likes it or not, _is_ a suspect and, as such, requires closer investigation." Embarrassment and frustration colored his cheeks as he stared at the newly-arrived pair. "God Almighty, if he was anyone else-"

"If he was anyone else you wouldn't be so hell-bent on jamming him in an interrogation room tonight." Hoping to temper his colleague's rising anger, Galetti remained calm and composed. "Especially after everything you know he's been through." He sighed in exasperation. "For God's sakes Frank, he's a victim of this guy too, remember?"

"I don't believe this!" Hands balling into fists, Harris took a handful of steps away from the assembled group before spinning to address Galetti again. "You're going to let him get out of it just because of who he is."

"No one's getting out of anything." Patience wearing thin, Galetti's tone hardened. "You're right; Dr. Grissom does need to be interviewed and that will happen as soon as possible but there is no way known I am letting you be present when it does." Seeing Harris' mouth start to open, he quickly cut him off. "And, if you don't like it, you are more than welcome to call headquarters and register your disapproval but, while _I'm_ in charge of the agency's efforts on this case, we will not be rolling out the thumbscrews and water torture just to satisfy personal grudges."

"So, what?" Harris demanded sarcastically. "We're just going to stand here and twiddle our thumbs?"

"Uh-uh." Galetti shook his head. "You're not going to stand here at all." With his hands on his hips, Galetti firmly stood his ground. "What I want you to do is head back out to the crime scene and see if you can make yourself useful there."

"Doing what exactly?"

"Doing whatever needs done." Turning back to the others, Galetti spoke over his shoulder, effectively dismissing the other agent. "Detective Vega's still out there along with a whole mess of LVPD officers; I'm sure someone will be able to find you a job to do."

"Oh, you better believe I'm phoning headquarters, Galetti." With a final glare for the assembled group, Harris turned and stalked the short distance to the morgue's swinging doors. "There is no way I'm putting up with this shit!"

With his arm outstretched, he slammed through the doorway, narrowly missing Nick and Greg as the pair stepped back into the corridor, coffee cups in hand.

"Jeez, someone's in a hurry." Handing one of the cups to Sara, Nick nodded a greeting to his boss. "You want one, Griss? It'll only take a minute."

"No thanks, Nick; I'm fine." He waited for the younger man to move off a bit before addressing Galetti. "I appreciate what you did."

"Don't mention it; he was way out of line." Galetti waved it off as he watched the swinging door finally come to rest. "He was right about that interview though."

"Yeah, I know and, if you want to give me a time and place, I'll be there." Turning briefly, Grissom glanced over in Jim's direction. "But, right now, my friend has just lost his only child and he comes first."

"Of course." Galetti was quick to nod his agreement. "There is something you might be able to help us with just now though."

"What's that?"

"When you spoke to Ms. Brass earlier tonight, did she happen to mention where she was staying in Vegas?" Both eyebrows rose in question. "A motel? Hostel?"

"No." After a moment's though, Grissom shook his head. "The only thing she said was that it wasn't too far from the Palace Station." He frowned. "Didn't she have a key or something on her that'd give you a clue?"

"She had nothing at all." Al Robbins spoke up. "Nothing _on_ the body and nothing _with_ the body." He shrugged. "If it hadn't been for Warrick recognizing her when he was called out to the scene, we'd probably still be trying to identify her now."

"So there was no sign of Caleb then?"

"Caleb?" Galetti frowned in confusion.

"Ellie's son." Grissom explained. "He's about seven months old."

"Ah." The agent nodded his understanding. "No, there was definitely no baby in the area."

"What about her car?" Sara asked as she turned towards Grissom. "You said she was driving, right?"

"Yeah, a blue sedan. "Closing his eyes, he tried desperately to picture the vehicle. "It's an older model, mid-nineties or so." He looked over at Galetti. "Could be worth checking the immediate area; she may have parked it nearby."

"Okay." Flipping through his notebook, Galetti scribbled the information down. "I can get Harris on that now; it'll keep him out of trouble."

"Since he's going to be in there anyway, you might want to have him pull the security tapes from the casino too." Grissom suggested. "As well as the ones from my building _plus_ the cameras from the two cabs I took tonight." He couldn't help but smile at the look of bewilderment on the faces of those around him. "I certainly wasn't expecting Ellie to die tonight but I did expect her to try something so I made sure that all of my movements were documented from the time I left my apartment to moment I got back." He looked across to Galetti. "It'll save a lot of time during that interview if you've already checked out my alibi."

"I don't really think you're going to need one, you know; I'm not Frank Harris." Slipping his notebook back into his jacket, Galetti checked his watch. "I'd like to keep it as informal as possible anyway; how does four pm in your office sound?"

"I'll be there." Grissom promised.

"Okay then, I guess I'll have a quick word with Captain Brass and then get going." Turning first towards Robbins, Galetti held out his hand. "Thanks for your time, doctor."

"Anytime." Balancing himself on one crutch, the coroner clasped the hand in a firm shake. "I'll make sure you get a copy of the final report."

Grissom waited until the agent was talking to Jim before returning his attention to Robbins.

"So, anything turn up in the preliminary that's going to help us out?"

"Not really." Al quickly shook his head. "There are no obvious indications of sexual assault but we'll run a SAE kit just to be sure, her fingernails are clean and she has no defensive wounds of any kind."

"Dammit!" Loosening his hold on Sara's hand, Grissom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You think there's any chance that this is someone other than our guy?

"Not as far as I'm concerned." Robbins lowered his voice to almost a whisper as he quickly ran through his initial findings. "Midline incision running from just below the breasts to the pubic bone, two deep slashes across her throat, one of which appears to have transected the trachea and, last but not least, a single blow to the back of the head." Looking over at the still seated detective, Al hoped he wasn't being overheard. "If I had to guess, I'd say that's going to be the cause of death; her skull has been almost shattered at the point of contact." He sighed. "I imagine she was dead before she hit the ground."

"Well, that's something anyway." Sara commented. "With some luck, she never knew what was happening."

"And, just in case that wasn't enough to convince you..." Robbins continued. "... there's also the fact that she's wearing a silver sleeper in her right earlobe while her left one contains nothing but a bloody tear."

"It's our killer all right." Grissom agreed. "Look Al, there's a couple of things I need you to do for me during the autopsy."

The coroner frowned. "Such as?"

"First up, I need a full tox screen."

"That's SOP Gil, you know that."

"Yeah but I want a hair analysis run too." Grissom told him. "She promised me she'd been clean since before the baby was born; I just need to know, one way or the other, whether she was telling the truth or not."

"Okay." Robbins nodded his agreement. "What else?"

"I also want her tested for the full range of STDs." He thought for a moment. "And hepatitis as well while you're at it."

"You're worried about what she may have passed on to her son." Al guessed.

"Given Ellie's lifestyle, I think it's something that needs to be considered." Turning his head, Grissom glanced back at his friend. "If there's any more bad news coming Jim's way, I'd rather have a heads up now than find out further down the track." He spoke over his shoulder to Robbins. "He's going to want to see her."

"Not tonight." Al gave his head a resolute shake. "No one needs to see their daughter in the state that girl's in at the moment." As Grissom turned back, Robbins shrugged. "He can come see her tomorrow after we've finished what we have to do and cleaned her up again but I am not letting him through that door tonight."

"In that case, I'm going to see about getting him out of here." Grissom looked across at Sara. "I'll take him back with me; I don't want him going home alone."

"Okay, I've still got a couple of things I need to finish off upstairs before I can call it a night." She told him. "But I can drop the two of you off and then come back."

"You don't need to do that." He told her. "One of the guys is bound to be free; I'll just beg a lift from them."

Sara frowned uncertainly. "You sure?"

"Trust me; finding a ride home is going to be the easy bit." He assured her, his mouth quirking up into the smallest of smiles. "Convincing Jim to come with me is going to be a whole lot harder."

* * *

"Thanks Nick." Holding the front door wide, Grissom watched as the Boxer ran passed him and down the stairs to check on the contents of his food bowl, before turning back to the younger man standing in the hallway outside.

"No problem." Leaning forward slightly, Nick attempted to make sure his next comments wouldn't be overheard. "You sure you're going to be okay?" Glancing past his boss, he watched as Brass downed the contents of the glass he held in one gulp before quickly refilling it. "I can stick around until Sara gets home if you want."

"There's no need, really." Grissom assured him. "We'll be just fine and thanks again for taking his majesty out for a walk; he's been cooped up in here almost all night."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that by the number of stops we had to make." Smiling at the scrabbling sound of nails on the stairs, Nick's grin widened as the dog came to a halt at his master's side. "I think he watered every tree and bush between here and the Boulevard, didn't you boy?" As Hank's tail swished from side to side in agreement, Nick took a step back from the doorway. "Anyway, I better get going but, if there's anything you need, you just have to yell out, okay? And that goes for Warrick and Greg too; anything at all, just let us know."

"I will do, Nick." Nudging the dog backwards with his foot, Grissom smiled his appreciation. "I'll see you tomorrow." Shutting the door, he shot the lock and took a moment to caress the big dog's head before turning to face his houseguest.

"You want one?" As his host turned, Jim held up his newly emptied glass.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd love one." Easing himself down into the leather armchair, Grissom sighed. "But I don't think it would mix too well with my meds, do you?" He nodded towards the bottle that was, once again, in his friend's hand. "Might be an idea to eat something, you know; I can get you a sandwich or something if you'd like."

"Uh-uh." With a quick shake of his head, Jim dismissed the offer. "This'll do me just fine." Screwing the cap back on the bottle, he placed it on the coffee table before leaning back against the couch.

"Well, how about slowing things down a little?" Grissom suggested. "I mean, at least until after you've spoken to your ex-wife."

"Nancy?" Brass all but spat the name out. "I'm not calling her."

"She's Ellie's mother, Jim."

"Well, it's a pity she didn't remember that when her daughter was looking for help." Raising his glass, Brass took a healthy swig of the potent liquor. "She turned them away, Gil, both Ellie _and_ Caleb."

Well used to dealing with the vagaries of grief, Grissom tried again. "She still needs to be told what's happened."

"Trust me, that woman doesn't _need_ anything; she doesn't _deserve_ anything." Draining the glass, Jim slid it onto the table beside the bottle before looking up again. "What the hell am I going to do? That little boy is out there somewhere and I don't have the first idea where to start looking for him."

"We'll find him." Reaching across, Grissom laid a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "One way or the other, we're going to find your grandson and make sure that he's safe."

* * *

Closing the front door behind her, Sara fended off the boxer's over-exuberant welcome as quietly as she could as she tried desperately not to disturb either of the two men sleeping just feet from her current position. Ordering the dog downstairs and out of harm's way, she crept over to the couch and looked down at its slumbering occupant.

Brass took up most of the large sofa. He lay on his back, one forearm draped across his eyes whilst the glass he'd been drinking from was clasped loosely in his other hand, the final dregs of ten-year old malt soaking into the crumpled shirt he wore.

Easing the glass from his fingers, she briefly considered waking him, knowing that he would not only sleep better downstairs in the spare bedroom but also be considerably closer to the facilities for the inevitably painful return to consciousness but decided to leave him to in peace and, instead, carried the glass and its accompanying empty bottle downstairs to the kitchen before returning, once again, to deal with the detective's sleeping companion.

"Hey." She spoke softly as she leaned over to place a light kiss on Grissom's forehead. "Come on, it's time you were in bed."

He came awake with a start and took a moment to orient himself but eventually looked up with a smile. "You're back."

"Just got in." She told him. "It took a little longer than expected to get my results back from Trace or I would have been home over an hour ago." She nodded towards the couch. "I see he found he found the anesthetic."

"Headed straight for it the minute we were through the door." Grissom told her. "By the time Nick and Hank got back from their walk, he was already on his fourth shot." Taking advantage of the hand Sara offered, he eased himself to his feet. "Not that I blame him."

They took the stairs slowly, Sara watching intently from behind as Grissom carefully made his way down to the lower level before following him over towards the kitchen.

"Aren't you going to bed?"

"I've slept enough for now." Pulling one of the stools back from the breakfast bar, he settled himself at the counter. "I'll wait until you're ready to turn in but, in the meantime, there's something that we really need to talk about."

"You're right, there is." Sara checked the water level in the kettle before turning it on. "Why didn't you let me know what was going on here tonight?"

"Because Ellie made it clear that she wouldn't deal with anybody but me." He told her simply. "She'd promised me a description, Sara; I couldn't risk losing that information."

"But you could risk your own health." She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Dammit Grissom, you're in no condition to wander round town by yourself at the moment; going out there tonight was just asking for trouble."

"That's a bit rich coming from the person who decided to take off after a mugger without backup." He commented as Sara started in surprise. "What? You really think I wasn't going to hear about that?"

"Catherine has a big mouth."

"No, Catherine was doing her job." Grissom pointed out. "That gun you carry is for protection, Sara, not so you can go tearing off after suspects by yourself."

"Look, it was no big deal." She placed two cups on the counter before dropping a teabag into each. "I was searching an alleyway, I heard the victim walking towards me and, as I looked up, this guy came out of nowhere and slammed her into a brick wall." Lifting the kettle, she poured hot water into both cups. "He grabbed her purse and took off; I didn't even have time to think about it, I just gave chase."

"That's not your job though, is it? You were there to process a scene and collect evidence; nothing more."

"I was armed." She insisted. "I was never in danger; hell, I never even got close to the guy anyway."

"I don't give a damn if you were in a Sherman tank." Frustration and annoyance kicked in and Grissom slipped automatically into supervisor mode. You're a CSI not a cop and you do not, under any circumstances, hunt down criminals."

"Okay, alright, I get it." Sliding one of the cups across the counter towards him, Sara sighed wearily. "I guess we both screwed up tonight, didn't we?"

"You could say that." Realizing that she was as tired as he was, he smiled. "It's been a long night."

"You can say that again." Sara sipped from her cup as her eyes wandered upwards towards the living room. "Did you manage to get him to talk?"

"About Ellie?" Following her line of sight, Grissom shook his head. "Not really, no."

"We better keep an eye on him; Jim's the type to bottle it up." She sighed. "What about her mother; how did she take it?"

"She didn't." Grissom told her as he raised his own cup to his lips. "Jim refused to call her." Seeing a protest forming, Grissom quickly silenced her. "So I waited until he passed out then raided his cell phone for her number." He shrugged. "I tried it twice but nobody picked up so I called Newark PD and explained what had happened; they're going to handle the notification for us."

"He's going to blame himself, isn't he?"

"I think, under the circumstances, any father would." Breathing in deeply, Grissom sighed. "But, he does have a grandson to consider so, hopefully, that'll give him something to focus on other than what's happened to Ellie."

"I was listening to the police radio while I was waiting for my results to come in." Sara told him. "They're doing everything they can to try and locate him; I think every cop in Vegas is out looking for him just now."

We don't even know if Caleb's in town; I did ask Ellie but she wouldn't tell me one way or the other." Looking down at the bench top, he fidgeted uncomfortably on his seat before looking up once again. "The thing is, Jim's determined to find him and I've sort of promised to help him out in whatever way I can."

Leaning on the counter, Sara stared into his eyes. "And what exactly would this help involve?"

"Now, that..." Grissom began. "... is something that you and I need to discuss."

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 31**

Standing in the open doorway of the lab's garage, Grissom stared at the blue 1994 Ford Tempo sedan that was parked in the center of the large room. Lost in thought, he didn't hear the footsteps behind him and started slightly as Catherine spoke up.

"Look familiar?"

"Yes, it does." Turning slightly, he smiled at his friend and colleague. "I still can't remember much of what happened that night but I'm pretty sure that's the car that was parked in the street while I was on the phone." He heard her following closely behind as he stepped fully into the garage. "Where did you find it?"

"A side street just off Campbell Drive." As he came to a stop, Catherine moved up to his side. "A patrol came across it an hour or so after you'd taken Jim home." She pointed towards the black powder-covered door handles. "We weren't sure it was the one we were looking for at first but when they ran the prints they came back as Ellie's."

"Campbell Drive is a couple of streets back from Oakey Boulevard, right?" Grissom frowned. "So what was she doing leaving her car all the way up there?"

Well, there are plenty of cheap motels in that area." Catherine pointed out. "We're hoping that she was holed up in one of them; uniforms are checking them out as we speak." She shrugged. "Or, maybe, she knew she had some time to kill before her meeting with you and decided to spend it making a couple of bucks."

"Might explain what she was doing in a park at that time of night." He nodded absently as he strolled around to the front of the vehicle. "Arizona plates."

"Registered owner is a Mike Kelly from Kingman; Conrad spoke to the Mohave County sheriff and he's sending some people out to speak to Mr. Kelly for us."

Stooping as much as his injuries would allow, Grissom peered in through the rear passenger window. "I'm not seeing any kind of child restraint."

"No, and there's no evidence of one ever having been in this car either." Catherine added. "Nor have we had any reports of unattended or abandoned babies in the past eighteen hours or so."

Straightening up, he looked at her across the top of the Ford. "Kingman's just a couple of hours from here; Ellie might not have been staying in Vegas at all."

"That's true." Catherine conceded. "And, one way or the other, we should start getting some answers within the next few of hours."

As Grissom recommenced his circuit of the vehicle, Catherine took the opportunity to study him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." Glancing up quickly, he saw her disbelieving look and shrugged. "Well, kind of tired, really; I missed out on a fair bit of sleep last night."

"You look exhausted."

"It's been a long couple of days." He admitted. "Plus I had my first outpatient PT session this morning followed by an appointment with my attorney." Seeing her eyes widen with interest, he became instantly guarded. "Just some papers to sign, that's all; nothing important."

"O-kay." Although her curiosity had been piqued, Catherine knew from long experience not to push and elected to change tack. "How's Jim?"

"Hungover." Leaning back against the nearest bench, Grissom allowed himself to relax again. "He hit it pretty hard after I got him out of here last night and he's been paying for it all morning."

"Might be an idea to keep an eye on his alcohol intake for a while." Catherine suggested, remembering Brass' own self-appraisal on the night he left for Newark. "He's already admitted he drinks too much; we don't want to see that becoming a problem."

"Yeah, Sara said much the same thing." He nodded his agreement. "It took some doing but she's finally got him to agree to stay with us for the next couple of days at least; don't worry, Cath, it's not going to get out of hand."

"What about Ellie's mother? When is she arriving?"

"At this point, I have no idea if she even is." Grissom's brow furrowed in confusion as he remembered the morning's events. "She left what amounted to an abusive tirade on Jim's phone this morning; apparently she and her husband had just gotten home from a weekend in New York and she was none too pleased to find a patrol car sitting outside her house." He shrugged in disbelief. "She seemed to be more upset about that than she was Ellie's death; in fact, the only time her daughter really rated a mention was when she was demanding to be told what arrangements Jim was planning and then she hung up."

"You know what people are like." Catherine tried to find an explanation for the other woman's actions. "Some take bad news well and some feel the need to lash out; I guess she's just that kind of person."

"Well, whatever the reason, Jim didn't seem overly surprised by the performance." Grissom sighed wearily. "He wants as little to do with her as possible at the moment; Sara told him she'd call Nancy back as soon as we know what's what."

"Well, if she wants any help, I'll gladly lend a hand." Catherine offered. "I don't mind playing intermediary between Jim and his ex."

"We might just take you up on that." Grissom smiled appreciatively. "I think Sara's got more than enough on her plate at the moment as it is."

"Where is she?"

"She's taken Jim back to his place to get a change of clothes and also to pick up whatever he's going to need for the rest of the week." He glanced up at the wall clock. "After that, she's driving him over to Mountainview Funerals on Craig Road; he's got an appointment there at half past four."

"God, I can't even begin to imagine what he's going through." With thoughts of her own daughter running through her head, Catherine shuddered. "Losing a child - especially like that... " She shook her head in an attempt to clear the images. "They're swinging by to pick you up again when they're done?"

"Not quite." He told her. "Al called this morning to let us know he'll be releasing the body later tonight and he's agreed to come in earlier than usual so that Jim can finally see her. I'm meeting them downstairs as soon as I'm done with this interview."

"Speaking of which, Galetti's already in your office."

"I know; I saw him when I first arrived." Grissom glanced over at the open doorway. "Is Harris about?"

"He was earlier but he's gone now." Catherine smiled. "Apparently, he had poor Archie holed up in the A/V lab all morning going over every inch of that video trail you left for him. Needless to say, he was not a happy camper when he left."

"Did he carry out his threat to report Galetti?

"Oh, yeah." Catherine's smile morphed into a grin. "But I don't think he was expecting Paul to get in first and, from what I've heard, the bigwigs in Washington are none too happy with Agent Harris' recent behavior. He was pretty much ordered not to be anywhere near the lab while you're here today."

"Well, I can't say I'm not relieved." Grissom shrugged good-naturedly. "Not that the man worries me but if he's not here then it's one less thing that I have to contend with." He sighed. "And I guess we'd better get this damn thing over with, hadn't we."

The pair had just re-entered the hallway when the shrill sound of a cell phone's ring brought them to a halt. Pulling hers from her pocket, Catherine quickly read the screen. "It's Vega." Flipping it open, she held it to her ear. "Yes, Sam"

The way she suddenly straightened had Grissom instantly on alert.

"Where?" Catherine nodded as she listened to the reply. "Yeah, I know where it is; we'll be there in five."

Slamming the cell closed, she slipped it back into her pocket as her eyes met Grissom's.

"Ellie's been staying at the Blue Topaz Inn on Rancho Drive." She smiled triumphantly. "According to the manager, she's been there for almost a week."

Grissom didn't hesitate. "I'm coming with you."

"Ah..." Catherine raised her hand as if to ward him off. "I'm really not sure that that's such a good idea."

"Catherine, I either come with you now or I grab a cab and make my own way there." Staring her down, Grissom's tone was quiet, controlled and deadly serious. "One way or another, I _am_ going to that motel."

"You know, anyone else and I'd probably take that as an empty threat but _you'd_ actually do it wouldn't you?" She rolled her eyes before resigning herself to the inevitable with a sigh of defeat. "Okay, I'll grab my kit, you grab Galetti – let's go."

* * *

"There's no need to baby-sit me." Standing to one side of the large black Denali, Grissom stared at the FBI agent positioned just a few short feet away. "I will actually follow orders and stay right here while the two of you check out the room, you know."

"I'm sure you would." Galetti told him evenly. "But it's hardly the biggest motel room in Vegas and, according to Catherine, I'd just get in the way so I thought I'd hang out here with you." Pulling his notebook from his the inside pocket of his jacket, Galetti held it up for Grissom to see. "So, you want to do this interview while we wait or what?"

"Now?" Surprised by the other man's question, Grissom could barely keep the incredulity from his voice. "Here?"

"Hey, I said I wanted to keep it informal, remember." He felt through his pockets for a pen. "And it doesn't get much more informal that the parking lot of the Blue Topaz."

"Are you sure you're a Federal agent?" Grissom allowed himself a smile. "The last I heard was that you guys had all kinds of rules and regulations you had to follow when dealing with possible suspects; I really don't think Quantico's going to approve of an al fresco interrogation."

"It's hardly an interrogation now, is it?" Galetti smiled. "I'm sure Catherine's already told you that Harris has examined all the surveillance footage of your movements last night and it more than proves where you where before, during and after the attack on Ms Brass." He shrugged. "_I_ never thought you were a suspect but, even if you had been, those tapes would be more than enough to clear you."

"I never had any doubt that they would." Grissom told him truthfully. "Having been caught out by Ellie once, I was determined my ass was going to be covered this time."

"Well, whatever the reason, it was a smart move on your part." Galetti folded his notebook open to a fresh page. "So she'd been watching your home?"

"That's what she told me." Grissom confirmed. "And she certainly knew when to call; Sara had only been gone for five minutes when my phone rang."

"And she wanted money?"

Grissom nodded. "First she offered to drop the paternity suit but when I told her I wasn't interested she changed her angle and said that she'd seen the person who attacked me in the lot that night."

Galetti's eyes narrowed at the information. "You think she really did?"

"At first I wasn't sure but now that I've seen the car she was driving I think there's a very good chance that she was there like she said."

"I think you could be right." Galetti gnawed gently on his bottom lip as he wrote. "The thing that's got me really concerned now though is where our killer was?" He glanced up at Grissom. "What are the odds that he _unknowingly_ attacked and killed someone who was in the process of meeting up with his last victim; especially when she'd just claimed to have witnessed that assault?"

"God, he was outside my building too, wasn't he?" Shocked, Grissom ran his hand roughly across his mouth as the full implications sank in. "He's either overheard Ellie on the phone to me or he's recognized her from Wednesday night; then all he had to do was follow her and get her alone." Leaning back against the SUV, he drew in a jagged breath. "So, he's not finished with me yet."

"Maybe I'm wrong." Galetti offered, realizing he'd just voiced a suspicion that the other man hadn't even considered. "Perhaps it was just a coincidence."

"Yeah, except we all know there's no such thing."

At the sound of approaching footsteps, both men turned to see Sam Vega hurrying towards them from the direction of the motel's office.

"I just finished getting a statement from the manager; according to him, Ellie's been staying here since late Tuesday night."

"The day before I was attacked." Grissom pointed out.

Vega nodded. "The guy says he hasn't seen much of her, he thinks she was just coming back to grab a couple of hours sleep and a change of clothes." He checked his notes. "He says she's been alone the whole time and there was definitely no child with her."

"It's sounding more and more like Caleb's not even in town." Grissom commented, more to himself that anyone.

"I think we're about done here." Crossing the asphalted car park at a brisk pace Catherine placed her kit on the ground as she looked from one man to the other. "There's next to nothing in there." She sighed. "One overnight bag and a couple of magazines; that's about the extent of Ellie's possessions."

"No purse?" Galetti queried. "Or cell phone?"

"No" Catherine shook her head. "They're not there; either the killer's souvenired them or someone came across the body before those teenagers did and decided to play finder's keepers."

"Just once I'd like to have some luck with this damn thing." Closing his eyes, Grissom massaged his temple. "Surely we've got to catch a break sometime."

"Well, it wasn't a total loss." Catherine told him, her face lighting up with a grin. "After all, I did find this."

* * *

"It's about time you turned up." Pausing on his way into the morgue's break room, Al Robbins quickly changed direction at the sight of the newcomer in his midst. "We were starting to get worried."

"I know I'm late." Easing himself down from the last of the steps, Grissom winced as the awkward movement tugged at the sutures nearest his hip. "It couldn't be helped."

"So Judy said." Coming to halt in front of Grissom, the coroner balanced himself carefully on his crutches. "I called upstairs an hour ago looking for you; that's how we found out you'd gone out on a call with Catherine and Agent Galetti."

Impatient for news, Grissom got straight to the point. "How did it go?"

"Pretty good actually, Jim handled it well." Robbins shrugged. "Of course, he knew exactly what it was he was walking into, unlike most of the relatives I deal with down here, but nothing really prepares you for the sight of your own child on that slab. Sara and I stayed with him for the first five minutes or so, I answered his questions and then we gave him some time alone. He seemed more..." He searched for a description. "At peace with himself when he finally came out."

"That's good." Looking past the coroner, Grissom searched the corridor. "So, where are they?"

"In my office; I thought a little privacy was in order. It's usually pretty quiet down here at this time of day but we do still get people going in and out and the last thing Jim needs at the moment is to be the center of attention."

"Thanks Al." With one more look along the hallway, Grissom lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. "Do we have the results back on those tests I asked you to run?"

"She was clear of all STDs." Robbins dropped his voice to match. "I had her tested for everything from herpes to HIV and it all came back negative, same thing for hepatitis; Ellie Brass was a perfectly healthy twenty-four year old when she died." He held up a finger. "Actually, she was almost twenty-five; her birthday's next Monday."

"Damn!" Grissom shook his head at the news. "Jim never said a word about that." He made a mental note to remember the information before quickly moving on. "How about the hair analysis?"

"Wilson finished it up before leaving this morning; the report was waiting on my desk when I came in." Robbins told him. "He wanted to be thorough so he tested a six inch sample and it's come back clear; she'd been drug-free for at least a year."

"Well, that's something anyway." Relieved, Grissom allowed himself a smile. "She may have gone back on the game but at least she had the good sense to stay clean." His gaze dropped to the floor as he pondered one last question. "Um, you did find evidence of childbirth, right? She was telling the truth about that?"

"Episiotomy scars don't lie, Gil." Robbins didn't bother trying to hide his bemused smile. "And there's really only one reason to have one; it's not exactly the type of thing women rush out to get just for the hell of it."

"No, I guess not." Grissom's smile was part relief and part embarrassment. "I was 99.9% sure Caleb does exist but I just…" He shrugged. "Had to make sure, I guess."

"That's okay; Jim pretty much asked me the same thing." Al checked his watch. "I better get going if I'm going to grab a meal before I 'officially' start work." Reaching across, he clapped Grissom on the shoulder. "And, if you don't mind me making a suggestion: go find him and Sara and then head home; you're supposed to be taking it easy, remember."

"I've been trying." Grissom pointed out. "I just haven't had much of a chance, that's all."

"Well, do it now." Robbins turned towards the door. "Doctor's orders!"

As the coroner disappeared into the break room, Grissom made his way further down the corridor. He tapped once on the closed office door before twisting the handle and letting himself into the room.

"You're back." Looking up at his entrance, Sara slipped her hand from Jim's as she started to stand. "Here, you take this seat."

"Stay." With a restraining hand on her shoulder, Grissom pressed her back down in the chair before leaning against the edge of the desk. "I'll be just fine here." Leaning forward slightly, he spoke quietly as he addressed his friend.

"How are you doing, Jim?"

"Better." Running one hand over his closely-cropped hair, Brass managed a half-hearted smile. "Especially now that I've seen her." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Al did a good job; she looked... she just looked like she was sleeping."

His gaze dropped to the floor, his pale face showing the strain of the day's events and Grissom watched his left hand curl into a fist as he struggled to keep a tight rein on his emotions.

"And the funeral?"

When Brass failed to respond, Sara spoke up instead.

"It's going to be a private cremation." She told him. "With a short memorial service that's booked for Friday morning at 10am." Taking hold of Jim's hand again, she gave it a quick squeeze. "Just family and close friends."

"Not that she had any out here." With his feeling back under control, Jim glanced up. "Not that I know of anyway but I think it's what Ellie would have wanted."

"I think so too." Reaching across, Grissom laid a comforting hand on Jim's shoulder. "Look Jim; there's been some progress in the case."

"Progress?" Jim's eyes lit up at the word. "They've found Caleb?"

"No." Pulling his hand back, Grissom shook his head. "I wish I could tell you that I knew where he was but, at the moment, it would only be a guess." He sighed. "I am fairly confident of one thing though and that is that he is _not_ anywhere in Vegas."

"But you don't _make_ uneducated guesses." Brass pointed out. "If you're willing to guess then you must have a clue."

"They found her car this morning and this afternoon, they located the motel she's been staying at; that's the call I went out on - Ellie spent the past week at the Blue Topaz over on Rancho." He looked from Jim to Sara and back again. "But, before that, it looks like she may have been in Kingman, Arizona."

"Arizona?" Jim looked over hopefully. "That's where Caleb is?"

"Like I said, it's only a guess." Grissom told him truthfully. "The locals are checking it out but they haven't gotten back to us yet." Pushing off the desk, he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket. "But regardless of what they come up with, I figured you'd want to see this."

Pulling out the small leather-covered photo album that Catherine had found stashed at the bottom of Ellie's overnight bag, Grissom held it up and allowed it to fall open as he watched his friend carefully.

"Jim – meet your grandson."

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

********

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 32**

* * *

**A/N1**: Not exactly the chapter I had planned but after weeks of hitting my head against a brick wall in regards to Jim (perhaps that should be a Brass wall) I think I've finally manged to get him working again so, for the moment, I'm willing to settle.

* * *

"Well this isn't too bad." Reaching across for the laminated menu that graced their table, Brass examined his surroundings approvingly. "As far as truck stops go, I've been in a lot worse."

"Thanks for agreeing to a break, Jim." Relaxing against the booth's padded backrest, Grissom heaved a sigh of relief. "I know you want to get to Kingman as quickly as possible; I just hope I'm not going to hold you back too much."

"Don't be dumb." Without looking up, Brass waved the comment off. "I already knew that a two hour non-stop trip was going to be beyond you. Besides, you're doing me a favor by coming along; the least I can do is try and make things comfortable for you."

"Well, it's not really something we wanted you doing alone." Grissom told him honestly. "Sara wanted to come too; it's just a pity she was needed in court this morning."

"Johnson case, right?" Looking up from the menu, Jim's eyebrows rose in question. "Hit-and-run from a couple of months ago?"

"Yeah, the information we'd been given was that the driver was pleading guilty and they wouldn't need her at all but then the idiot changed his plea." Grissom shrugged. "So now she gets to spend the day sitting around the courthouse."

"You did remind her about carrying her gun, didn't you?"

"Yes, Jim." Grissom rolled his eyes at the patronizing tone. "Sara's armed, I'm armed and even Catherine and the guys have been told to keep their weapons on them at all times." At Jim's frown, Grissom elaborated. "Galetti suggested it; if the killer can't get to me, he may decide to take a run at one of them instead."

"Of course." Jim nodded absently. "I really should have thought of that, shouldn't I?"

"You're just a bit preoccupied." Grissom told him gently. "That's understandable at the moment."

"Yeah, I guess." Letting his gaze drop to the table top, Brass sighed. "I'm just finding it hard to concentrate on things; I can't help feeling that I should have done something."

"Such as?" Grissom stared at his friend's lowered head. "We didn't even know Ellie was in town until she called me that night, Jim; what could you possibly have done?"

"I don't mean on the night she died" Brass clarified. "I was thinking more along the lines of years ago."

"What can I get you?" Appearing suddenly at their table, the diner's middle aged waitress took both men by surprise.

"Just coffee for me." Grissom smiled his thanks before turning to his friend. "Jim?"

"Yeah, coffee's good." Brass cleared his throat and nodded. "That'll do for now."

"You got it." Turning smartly, the woman strode back to her counter and Grissom watched her go before leaning in to speak.

"And what exactly is it that you think you could have done differently: stayed in Newark and played happy families until Ellie came of age? When have you ever known that to work?" He softened his tone slightly as he endeavored to break through the layers of guilt his friend was steadily weaving around himself. "Look Jim, you know as well as I do that there are millions of kids out there who come from broken homes – they survive the arguments, they survive the divorce and they even manage to survive having parents who live at opposite ends of the country without turning to drugs and prostitution." He saw Brass flinch at the words but carried on regardless. "And, unlike a lot of those kids, Ellie had choices; she could have done anything she wanted but she made a conscious decision to live the life she did and I don't think anything you could have said or done, _at any time_, would have changed that."

Brass remained silent and Grissom gave him a moment before adding one more thing.

"You want to carry some of the blame for the way she turned out, Jim then fine but, for God's sake, don't take it all; it'll do nothing but eat you up inside." Leaning back again, he shrugged. "There's not a lot more you can do for your daughter now but you've got a grandson out there who's going to need you so how about we concentrate on him for a while, huh?"

"Your coffees, gentlemen." With a tired smile, the waitress slid two cups onto the table top. "If there's anything else you want, just give me a yell."

With a nod of thanks, Jim pulled his cup closer and stared into it as he continued to process everything that had just been said. "You're right, Ellie's gone and I'm not going to achieve anything by raking over the past." He drew in a deep breath and held it for a second before allowing himself a small smile. "Caleb is what's important now."

"You bet he is." Reaching for his own cup, Grissom silently congratulated himself on breaking through his friend's brief relapse into depression. Although still clearly grieving, the long silences and abject despair that had marked the immediate aftermath of his daughter's death had been less and less apparent in the past eighteen hours and Jim had been making steady progress aided, undoubtedly, by Catherine's discovery at the Blue Topaz Inn. "Which reminds me, you haven't waved one of those photographs in front of me for at least two hours now; you're not bored with him already, are you?"

"I haven't been that bad, have I?" Mood lifting, Jim chuckled as his hand slipped into his jacket pocket. "You know, there was something I wanted your opinion on..." Withdrawing the small album, he flipped through it to the picture he'd last been studying. "Does that look like red hair to you?"

"Red hair?" Grissom took the book with a bemused smile. "That's a new one." Pulling his glasses from his pocket, he put them on and closely examined the image in question.

Taken immediately after what appeared to be a particularly messy mealtime, the photo showed Caleb perched in a highchair that was liberally splattered with pureed food. Clearly delighted with the havoc he'd cause, he was grinning, toothlessly, into the camera lens; his sparkling blue eyes and chubby, dimpled cheeks set off perfectly by fine wisps of, decidedly blond, baby hair.

"It'll probably get a bit darker as he grows, Jim but I don't think anyone's going to tell you that boy's hair is red." Placing the book down on the table, he continued to stare at the photo. "How old did Catherine say he was in that one?"

"Around six months she thinks." Jim sipped at is coffee. "Which means it was taken about a month ago."

"He's a good looking kid."

"Of course he is!" All but snatching the album up again, Jim smiled proudly at the photo. "He is my grandson after all."

Grissom bit back a chuckle. "And the red hair question?"

"Oh, it was just something I was thinking about on the drive down here." Realizing now how strange it had sounded, Brass shrugged self-consciously. "I just figured that with a name like Mike Kelly, this guy we're meeting up with is probably from Irish stock and well... maybe red hair runs in the family."

"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" Raising his cup, Grissom stared at his friend. "Mike Kelly was her landlord, Jim; I'm sure their relationship went no further than a rented apartment and a borrowed car."

"Hey, it wouldn't be the first time Ellie paid for something in kind, you know."

"You saw the report the sheriff's office sent us on him." Grissom pointed out. "He's seventy-four and a retired insurance adjuster who's been caring for his bed-ridden wife for over a year now; do you seriously think he's Caleb's biological father?"

"No, probably not." Jim conceded with a smile. "But it doesn't stop me wondering, does it? After all, it's not like Ellie was fussy in her choice of men."

"Well, as the man she decided to publicly name as the father of her son, I should probably be insulted by that remark" Grissom commented good-naturedly.

"Hey, just be glad Caleb's dimples are in his cheeks and not his chin." Jim teased. "Or I might have been forced to reconsider taking your side in that whole mess." Sobering suddenly, Jim stared across the table "Seriously though, you do know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me, right? I mean, anyone else hit with a suit like that would have just tossed our friendship down the drain and walked away."

"There have been moments when I was tempted." Grissom joked.

"I'm sure there were." Jim countered. "But you didn't and I'm thankful for that, especially now; you and Sara have taken me into your home, helped me deal with everything that has to be done and now you're down here helping me look for Caleb..." He shook his head. "Above and beyond doesn't even begin to cover it, Gil; the two of you have been fantastic and I have no idea how I'm ever going to pay you back."

"You're not because we don't want repayment." Grissom told him simply. "We're helping you out because we're friends, Jim and that's what friends do. And..." He took a deep breath as he formulated his next statement. "It's precisely because I'm your friend, that I want to make sure you're not getting your hopes up too high about today; we know Caleb isn't in Kingman and we also know that Mr. Kelly doesn't haven't the faintest idea where he is; the deputies went over all of that with him last yesterday."

"I know." Jim admitted. "But he's meeting us at Ellie's apartment and he's letting us go inside and maybe, just maybe, we'll find something in there that'll lead us to Caleb." He shrugged. "That's all I want now; it's not too much to ask, is it?"

"No." Grissom agreed. "No it's not." Picking up his cup, he drained it in one go. "So, what do you say we go and see what we can turn up?"

* * *

"Nothing!" Throwing himself into the driver's seat of the black Dodge, Brass slammed his fist against the steering wheel in anger. "How the hell can we search the place and come up with nothing?"

"What did you really expect, Jim?" Tired and aching, Grissom bit his lip as he carefully eased himself into the vehicle alongside his friend. "A treasure map with a big red cross showing us where to find him?" He stared through the windscreen to the apartment complex beyond. "I told you not to get your hopes up."

"I _know_ what you told me." Brass all but spat the words out as frustration overwhelmed him. "And reminding me of it now doesn't help."

"I'm sorry." With a weary sigh, Grissom turned back to his friend. "Look, maybe we didn't find anything that leads directly to Caleb but at least now we know when she took him away and with that knowledge we may be able to track him through her phone calls." He shrugged. "She'd have had to phone someone to set it all up."

Brass rubbed idly at his temples. "You think?"

"It's worth a shot." Grissom tried his best to sound encouraging. "According to Mr. Kelly, she left Kingman with the baby a little over two weeks ago; I'll have Archie pull the records for the apartment's phone and we'll see what he finds."

"Yeah, you're right; what have we got to lose." Temper abating, Brass nodded towards the apartment block. "I got a surprise when we walked into that place; after seeing Ellie's last abode, I was expecting something a lot less..." He shrugged. "... nice."

"Well, if we learned anything today, Jim, it's that Ellie lied when she spoke to me on the phone." Turning to his friend, Grissom smiled. "She may have come across as hard and uncaring but that apartment looks like a home to me. By the looks of it, most of the stuff in there has been bought second-hand but she was clearly trying to do her best for her son."

"By sending him away?" Jim quipped sarcastically.

"Actually, I think she may have done that to protect him." Grissom opined. "Whether that was because of the paternity suit or maybe just to make sure he wasn't exposed to her 'work', we'll probably never know but I'm sure wherever he is, he's as safe as she could make him."

"For now maybe, but how long is that going to last if she never goes back?" With a defeated sigh, Jim slumped in the car seat. "Ellie had friends and contacts in New Jersey, Los Angeles, Nevada and God knows where else; Caleb could be anywhere."

"Theoretically, yes." Grissom told him. "But with the resources we've got, we can make sure that every law enforcement agency and child welfare department in the country has his photo and description; wherever Caleb is and whoever he's with, sooner or later, someone's bound to come across him."

"The most recent picture we have was taken four weeks ago, Gil; kids change quickly at that age." Brass pointed out. "By the time someone finds him, he may not look a thing like the photo."

"Maybe not." Grissom conceded. "But now that there's nothing to stop us, we'll be able to get his hospital records from Desert Palm and pull the prints that were taken when he was born; with those and a quick cross-check against Ellie's DNA, they're going to know within minutes whether they have the right kid or not." He shrugged. "But, unless Archie does find something, you may just have to be patient and wait."

"The problem with that is..." Pulling himself upright, Jim reached for his seatbelt. "... patience was never my strong suit."

"Yeah, I had noticed." Grissom smiled. "But, unfortunately, I can't think of much more we can do at the moment."

"I can." Pushing the key into the Dodge's ignition, Brass fired it up and gunned the engine. "First, I'm going to get the rest of this damn week over and done with and when that's done, I'm going to find the bastard who murdered my daughter."

TBC

* * *

**A/N2**: Just because I know someone (and they know who they are) won't be able to resist having a dig at me, I'd like to point out that at the time of posting this it was still Sunday in the States so, technically, I have carried through on my promise. ;)


	33. Chapter 33

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 33**

"Jim?"

Standing, lost in thought, in front of the large picture window that overlooked his backyard, Brass started at the sudden voice behind him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Pasting on a smile, he turned to face his inquisitor. "I'm fine, Cath." Raising the whiskey glass in his hand, he took a small sip. "Just thinking, that's all."

"Memories?" She watched as he nodded. "It was a lovely service."

"It was, wasn't it?" He offered her a small smile. "I thought there'd only be a couple of us there to see her off but..." Unable to finish the sentence, he nodded towards the twenty or so people who were now crammed into the lounge room of his small weatherboard house. "I never expected a turnout like this."

Over fifty people, all of them from law enforcement, had crammed into the small, private chapel on Craig Road. Vega, Vartann and Sofia Curtis had led the PD contingent of detectives and uniformed officers while CSI had been represented by every member of Graveyard along with Conrad Ecklie, Al Robbins and a few select members from Days and Shift who had worked closely with Brass in the past. A handful of deputies from the Sheriff's Office had also turned up along with both Ben Burdick and his under-sheriff, Jeff McKeen.

Not all of them had make it back to the Brass residence for the low-key 'wake', work commitments and busy schedules whittling the number down by more than fifty percent but those who had managed it were numbered amongst Jim's closest friends and most supportive colleagues.

"They're your friends, Jim." Catherine stated simply. "And at time like this, friends pull together." She shrugged and smiled. "I'm not sure what Ellie would have had to say about it though; that chapel was packed with cops."

"She'd probably have loved it." Throwing off his somber mood, Brass managed a light chuckle. "I mean, how many working girls get the damn sheriff turning up for their funeral?"

"Not many." Catherine grinned for a moment before sobering. "I'm sorry about her mother though; I honestly don't know what she thinks she's playing at." At a loss to explain the other woman's actions, Catherine shrugged helplessly. "What kind of person turns up late to their own daughter's funeral and then only stays for ten minutes?"

"The Nancy kind." Jim answered honestly. He'd heard the heavy wooden door open five minutes into the service and, glancing back, had witnessed his ex-wife's almost furtive entrance into the chapel; he'd expected her to make her way to the front but instead she'd chosen to stand alone at the rear of the room and when he'd glanced back ten minutes later she'd been gone. He'd neither seen nor heard from her since. "It's alright, Cath; in a way I'm glad she didn't stick around." He sighed wearily. "She's always had a knack for turning the least little thing into a melodrama or a circus act and, today, I'm really not in the mood for either."

Catherine frowned. "And you had no other family?"

"There's not many of us left." Jim told her. "My parents are long gone and my brother died of a heart attack over ten years ago; he had a couple of kids but we've lost touch and I'm not sure where they are now." Lifting the glass, he drained the contents. "And as for Nancy's side of the family..." One shoulder rose in a regretful shrug. "Well, they lost interest in both me _and _Ellie years ago."

"But you've still got all of us." Stepping up to join them, Annie Kramer slipped her arm through his. "I hate to interrupt you but I'm going to have head off; I'm booked on the four o'clock flight back to LA." With a coquettish smile, she addressed her long-time friend and one-time lover. "Walk me out to my car?"

"Of course." Placing his empty glass down on the nearest surface, Jim threw a questioning glance in Catherine's direction. "You don't mind do you, Cath?"

"Not at all." With a smile, Catherine held her hand out to the other woman. "It's been a pleasure to finally meet you, Annie."

"And you." She took the proffered hand in a firm shake. "I just wish it could have been under happier circumstances."

"Come on." Suddenly anxious to be outside, Jim all but pulled the two women apart. "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

"I'll give you a call when I get home, okay?" Opening the driver's door of her rented Impala, Annie tossed her purse across onto the passenger seat before looking up with a warm smile. "Just to let you know that I got back safely."

"Better make it on my cell." Standing in the street a dozen yards from his house, Jim returned the smile. "I'm going to hang around here for the rest of the afternoon to tidy things up again but I'll be staying with Gil and Sara for another few days." He shrugged self-consciously. "I've told them I'll be moving back on Sunday but, for the moment, I think I'd still like to have a little company around me."

"That sounds like a good idea." Cocking her head to the side, Annie grinned. "You know, for two people who are trying to keep their relationship under wraps, they're not doing a very good job; I haven't seen them move more than ten feet apart all day."

"Well Sara's kind of protective of him at the moment." Pulling open his jacket, Jim showed her the gun strapped firmly to his hip. 'We all are, actually." Letting the fabric fall again, he smiled. "And I kind of get the feeling that the brush with mortality that Grissom just had has made both of them realize that there's more important things in life than keeping secrets."

"He's looking a lot better than I expected." Annie told him. "After you telling me on the phone what had happened I thought he'd still be laid up."

"Yeah, he's doing good." Brass nodded his agreement. "Most of the stitches were removed earlier this morning and the last of them will be out on Monday." He shrugged. "He's still got a ways to go yet, and a lot depends on that hand of his but, all in all, he's bounced back pretty well."

"He was lucky." Reaching out, she took hold of his hand again as she stared into his eyes. "Look Jim, when things settle down a bit and you feel like taking a break; I want you to come out to LA for a while, okay? I'll take some time off, you can stay at my place and the two of us can play tourists for a bit; it'll give you a chance to recharge your batteries. What do you say?"

"It sounds tempting." Jim admitted as he quickly thought over the offer. "But I just don't know when I'd be able to make it; I'll be back at work on Monday and between that and trying to find Caleb..."

"No luck with those phone records you mentioned?"

Jim shook his head. "If Ellie did call someone to make arrangements for him she certainly didn't do it from her apartment phone and we've checked with the cell companies but there's nothing registered in her name." He sighed. "Not that that means anything, of course; we already know she's used at least one disposable phone lately."

"You'll find him, Jim." Annie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I've seen the alerts you guys have been putting out and they're as detailed as they come – you're going to get him; just you wait and see." She glanced at her watch. "I better go."

"Thanks for coming." Stepping forward, he pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry we didn't get much time together."

"Well, under the circumstances, I think I can forgive you for that." Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hung on tight. "You take care of yourself, Jimmy; for your sake _and_ for that grandson of yours."

"I will, I promise." Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, Jim glanced to the side and watched as a yellow cab eased to a halt in front of his driveway then groaned inwardly as he recognized the all-too familiar backseat passenger.

"Dammit!"

"What is it?" Breaking the embrace, Annie eyed him with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nancy's here."

"Ah." Risking a quick peek, Annie watched as the other woman climbed from the back of the taxi. "She hasn't changed much has she? Same hair, same clothes; she looks pretty much like she used all those years ago back in Jersey."

"Well, nowadays, she's got a considerably larger clothing allowance than the one I used to give her and I don't even want to guess how much the hair cost." Holding the Impala's door wide, Jim gestured for Annie to get in. "But, apart from that, she _is_ just the same and that includes her temper." Pushing the door closed, he leaned on the open window. "So, it's definitely time for you to leave."

"You sure?" Annie frowned. "I don't mind sticking round if you need some moral support." Reaching through the window, she cupped his cheek. "I can always change my flight."

"Uh-uh." Leaning in, Jim kissed her cheek. "I've got to deal with her sometime and it might as well be now." Stepping back, he tapped his hand on the car. "Now go on; you've got a plane to catch."

Remaining where he was, his back to the rest of the street, Jim lifted his hand in a farewell wave and watched as the rental pulled away before reluctantly turning around.

She was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

"How touching." Nancy sneered in disgust at the departing Impala. "I take it that _was_ who I thought it was?"

"I was never that good at reading minds, Nancy." With a weary sigh, Jim stepped back up onto the curb. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"The whore." She clarified, the insolent smile widening even further as she watched her ex-husband's expression darken. "Don't tell me you're _still_ screwing her."

"Well, if I was it would be none of your business." Determined not to rise to the bait, Jim stopped on the sidewalk and stared. "You didn't particularly care twenty years ago so why the hell should you be interested now?"

"Oh, believe me, I'm not; I just find it strange that _that_ woman thinks it's perfectly acceptable to attend my daughter's funeral."

"Well, it's more than you could manage." Jim retorted, his voice rising as anger inevitably took hold. "Oh no, wait, you were there, weren't you – for a whole ten minutes." Brushing past her, he started walking back to the house. "You know, no matter what she did or didn't do with her life, I really would have though Ellie was worth a little more of your time."

"I don't _do _funerals, Jim." Hurrying along behind him, Nancy struggled to excuse herself. "I've never handled them well, you know that."

"Of course you haven't." He spat back over his shoulder. "It's one of the few times in life that you _can't_ be the center of attention." Turning suddenly, his face broke into a cold, mirthless grin. "But I bet you're just hanging out for old whatshisname's aren't you? Where is he anyway? Don't tell me, let me guess – he was too decrepit to make the flight to _London_ with you."

Taken aback by the vehemence behind the words, Nancy stared. "Actually, Ronald knows I'm not in London and he _also_ knows exactly why I had to come to this pit of a town." Confident that she'd successfully countered the comments, her tone turned arrogant. "He even offered to come with me but I told him it was something I needed to do by myself; after all, it's not like he ever met Ellie."

"No thanks to you." Twisting his arm, Jim checked his watch. "Oh look, you've almost spent more time here than you did at your daughter's funeral so how about I go in and call you another cab?"

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere." Brushing imaginary dirt from the lapels of her designer jacket, Nancy sniffed self-righteously. "Not until I get what I came for."

Unable to help himself, Jim laughed. "Don't tell me you're stupid enough to think Ellie left a will? Good God, even if she had done that I imagine you'd be one of the last people she leave anything to."

With a smug smile forming, Nancy shook her head. "No Jim, I'm not in the least interested in my daughter's "worldly good"; whatever she owned, you're more than welcome to keep." The tone was patronizing and Jim was instantly on guard. "The only thing I'm interested in now is the child."

"You have got to be joking." Quickly stepping up onto his porch, Jim ran his hands over his pockets as he searched in vain for his phone. "You're not having anything to do with that boy."

"I am most certainly _not_ joking." From her position on the driveway, Nancy stared up determinedly at her ex. "I'm his grandmother, Jim and I deserve to know what's going on."

"You deserve nothing!" Giving up on finding the cell, Jim's eyes flashed with anger as he glared back. "Two weeks ago you didn't even care that he existed so don't you dare think you can come here now and play the dotting grandma." Aware of the proximity of his guests, Jim lowered his voice. "If you'd given a damn about him _or_ his mother, you would have helped her out when she first came to you but, instead, you turned her away."

"I had to do that, you know what she was like." Moving onto the first of the wooden steps, she tried to justify her actions. "If I'd given her money, it never would have stopped; she'd have kept coming back and she'd have needed more and more each time." She shrugged. "I couldn't have that happening; I couldn't allow her to jeopardize everything I have."

"Everything _you_ have." Jim parroted as he stared at her in disgust. "God you make me sick!"

Realizing she was getting nowhere, Nancy bit back the urge to retaliate and instead decided to try a different approach. "Look, this is getting us nowhere." Taking a couple of steps forward, she reached out and laid her hand lightly on Jim's arm. "What happened back then is all over and done with and all the arguing in the world is not going to change that." Softening her tone, her voice took on an almost seductive quality. "The only thing that's important now is the future of _our_ grandson, he needs to be taken care of, but I can't do anything about that if you refuse to tell me what you know."

"You don't _need_ to do anything." He quickly pulled away from her touch. "Caleb doesn't need you Nancy and neither do I so why don't you just crawl back into your mansion and leave us alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." She bristled at his tone. "I have rights, Jim, I've already checked and according to my lawyer-"

"What? You can apply for custody?" He scoffed at the notion. "Don't make me laugh; you never really wanted Ellie, why the hell would you want her son?"

"Well, you're not raising him, that's for sure." Nancy's voice rose in direct relation to her frustration with her ex-husband. "I don't care what I have to do; I will not stand by and let you bring that boy up."

"Well, I guess it's your lucky day then because I'm not having him either."

Without further explanation, Jim opened the front door and disappeared inside leaving her standing alone on the porch. It took her only a moment to regroup.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Trailing him into the lounge room, she ignored the strangers around her as she stalked towards Jim. "What the hell did you mean by that?"

Conversation in the room quickly dried up as those gathered turned to stare and, realizing what was happening, Grissom pushed himself up from his seat on the couch.

"Jim?"

"Its okay, Gil." Brass shot his friend a reassuring smile as he snatched up the handset of his home phone. "I'm just going to call her a cab and, with any luck, she'll be out of here in five minutes."

"Gil!" Spinning at the name, Nancy eyed the entomologist up and down as a slow smile formed. "So you're the idiot on the birth certificate, huh?"

"Nancy?" Hurrying through from the kitchen, Catherine quickly inserted herself into the blossoming melee. "I'm Catherine; I'm the one you spoke to in the phone." Grabbing hold of the other woman's arm, she attempted to steer her away. "How about we go out to the-"

"I'm not going anywhere." Pulling free from Catherine's grasp, Nancy turned to glare at Jim. "Not until he explains himself."

"Your cab's on its way." Jabbing his finger at the disconnect button, Jim smiled. "I told them it was an emergency so don't get comfortable."

"What did you mean out there?" Eyes blazing, Nancy demanded an answer. "If you're not having him who is?"

"Well that should be obvious" With all anger gone, Jim was completely in control. "When we find Caleb he'll be going to his father." He grinned happily in the knowledge that he'd trumped her. "Paternity has been legally established and a custody order is already in place; the judge signed off on it all on Monday."

"How can he go to his father?" Confused, Nancy looked from one face to the other in search of an answer. "The last I heard was that you didn't even know who he was."

"Well now we do." Stepping forward, Sara at his side, Grissom was the one to meet her gaze. "Caleb's mine."

* * *

"You're very quiet." Piloting the Mercedes home via the Las Vegas Freeway, Sara glanced across at her silent passenger. "You're not angry at Jim, are you?"

"At Jim? No." Grissom shook his head. "At what happened? Yes."

"It had to come out sometime, you know; it's not like we could keep it a secret forever."

"I know, it's just..." He sighed. "A little longer would have been nice; after all, we agreed on keeping it quiet to cut down on the gossip and then I'm all but forced to announce it in front of half the damned department."

"A slight exaggeration." Sara stated with an easy smile as she eased the car into the Lake Mead Boulevard exit lane. "But I can see your point; our over-active grapevine could be a problem."

"Could be?" Grissom huffed out a laugh. "Try definitely _will_ be." Glancing across at the speedometer, he frowned. "Might want to slow down a bit, honey; you're not driving the Prius now, remember."

"I'm trying." With her fingers tightening around the steering wheel, Sara kept her eyes pinned on the rapidly approaching curve of the off-ramp as the big car sailed towards it at close to seventy-five miles per hour. "The problem is we don't seem to have any brakes."

TBC

**A/N: **Okay folks, that's all you're getting out of me for this year - enjoy the holidays, stay safe and I'll catch you all in 2011.


	34. Chapter 34

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 34**

* * *

_A/N1: Sorry about the delay, a couple of weeks of non-stop rain (not to mention the flooding that followed it) has been playing havoc with the electricity and phone lines around here and getting a reliable connection has been hit-and-miss. Seems to be settling down now though so, hopefully, the problems are over._

******

* * *

**

"How the hell can we have no brakes?" Grissom's eyes shifted quickly from the speedometer to Sara as the words she'd just uttered sank in. "They were serviced just over a month ago."

"Serviced or not, we definitely don't have any." Sara's knuckles turned white as her hold on the steering wheel tightened. "Trust me; this is not something I'm going to joke about."

"Try pumping the brake pedal." Still slightly disbelieving, Grissom fumbled for a solution. "If you keep doing that, sometimes you can build up enough pressure in the system to-"

She quickly cut him off.

"I've been trying that; it's not working." Sara nodded towards the upcoming turn. "Besides, I don't think we really have time."

"Dammit!" Finally looking out through the windscreen, Grissom quickly sized up the approaching curve. "Think you can hold it through that?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" Darting a quick glance to the side, she offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you weren't the only one to take the department's driving course, remember."

Steering as close to the guardrail as possible, she angled into the turn much earlier than she normally would, trusting that the extra yardage would help shave some of the sharpness from the curve. Muscling the big car around the wide arc, she held her breath as the back end began to drift before the tires, squealing in protest, managed to regain their grip on the road surface and the Mercedes almost shot out of the turn and onto the dead-straight slip road that serviced Lake Mead Boulevard.

"Thank God that's over." With a slightly shaky laugh, Sara allowed her hold on the wheel to relax a little. "I thought I was going to lose it for a moment there."

"Not a chance." With a smile of encouragement, Grissom relaxed back in his seat. "You had it under control the whole way." Leaning to his left, he checked the speedometer again. "And you managed to get our speed down to sixty-five too."

"It's a start." Flipping on the hazard lights, she kept her eyes pinned to the road ahead. "We've got about half a mile before we hit the first intersection so what do you suggest we do?"

"Well, the hand brake probably still works but if we pull it at this speed we'll only end up locking up the tires and then we'll lose control." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't think there's much choice; we're going to have to use the barriers."

"There's got to be another way." Glancing left and right, Sara frowned at the sight of the solid cement dividers that lined both sides of the two lane road. "How about the gears?" Reaching down, she placed her hand on top of the gearshift. "If I drop it into low, it should bring our speed down, right?"

"In theory, yes." Grissom agreed. "But I have no idea how long that'll take to work." With a shake of his head, he dismissed the idea. "You know how busy that intersection is at this time of day; we have to get this car stopped and we've got to do it now." Glancing back over his shoulder, he checked for other traffic. "There are only a couple of cars about at the moment, Sara; this is going to be the best chance that we'll get."

"A controlled collision." Sara sighed. "That is what we're talking about, right?"

"That's it exactly." He nodded quickly. "Inch it over as close to the barrier as you can get and then push her into the wall." He took a deep breath. "It's going to be struggle to hold it there but, if you can keep it up long enough, the friction will slow us down."

"That simple, huh?" Despite the circumstances, she smiled. "You do know what that's going to do to your car, don't you?"

"Well, most of the damage should just be cosmetic." With an answering smile, Grissom shrugged. 'She's about due for a respray anyhow and, this way, the insurance company gets to pay for it." Sobering quickly, he nodded towards the four foot high cement wall that was now flashing by just feet from the passenger side. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Steering the Mercedes to the outside edge of the right hand lane, Sara took a deep, calming breath. "Lean in towards me, okay? I want you as far from that wall as you can get."

Holding his injured arm in tight against his chest, Grissom shifted as far to the left as his seatbelt would allow. He only just had time to brace himself against the back of his seat and the center console before Sara edged the big car the final few inches into the concrete barrier.

The screech of metal on stone was deafening and both right side windows shattered, the glass raining down into the interior, as Sara, teeth clenched in concentration, held the protesting Mercedes tightly against the cement wall.

"It's working!" With her arms at full extension, Sara fought to keep the big car in place as she risked a glance at the speedometer. "We're under fifty now; we're slowing down."

"Good." Grissom had to raise his voice to be heard. "If we can get it down just a little bit more, it should be safe to use the handbrake."

The throaty roar of a much more powerful engine sounded from almost directly behind them and, looking past Sara, Grissom watched as a large black Suburban, its windows heavily tinted, pulled in alongside the stricken car.

He only had time to see the vague silhouette of a hand raised in acknowledgement before the big SUV veered sideways and slammed the Mercedes even further into the unyielding concrete wall.

* * *

"This is becoming something of a habit." Standing in the open doorway of the small examination room, Catherine's easy gibe belied the fear she'd been engulfed with ever since the hurried phone call informing her of the runaway car. "We just can't let you out of our sights, can we?"

"Trust me." Levering himself up a little on the emergency room gurney, Grissom smiled. "It's one habit I'm dying to kick."

"Don't say that!" Reaching across, she tapped lightly on the thin partition wall that divided the cubicle from the one next door. "It's bad enough that this guy's still out to get you without giving him a hand by tempting fate." Narrowing her eyes, she examined him thoughtfully. "So, what's the damage this time?"

"There isn't any really." With a self-effacing shrug, Grissom lightly ran his fingers over the two steristrips that covered a small cut on his forehead. "A few new bumps and bruises but that's about it." He glanced over at the door. "In fact they'll be kicking me out of here in a minute or so; they're just finishing up the paperwork."

"And Sara?" Pulling up the room's only stool, Catherine took a seat at the side of the gurney. "They told me at the desk that she'd been taken upstairs for x-rays."

"According to her doctor, it's just a precaution; she has some tenderness in her neck and shoulders so they're just making sure everything's okay." Glancing down, he checked his watch. "She shouldn't be too much longer; they said it would only take fifteen minutes or so."

"Well, I hope you both know how lucky you are." Crossing one leg over the other, Catherine made herself comfortable. "I swung by the scene on my way in here" She shook her head. "The Mercedes is a mess."

"Yeah, well..." Grissom expression instantly darkened. "I think we can blame most of the damage on the FBI."

"Agent Harris thought he was doing the right thing." Catherine pointed out.

"I'm not sure he had to do it quite as violently as he did though." Grissom posited, clearly annoyed at the damage that had been inflicted by the agent's actions. "I mean, we were getting it under control; another thirty seconds and we probably would have-"

"Another thirty seconds might have been too long, Gil; he saw that you were in trouble and did what he had to do." Catherine had no problem playing devil's advocate. "Just be glad the Mercedes was the only real casualty; it could have ended up a whole lot worse."

"I guess." He reluctantly conceded with a sigh. "Is he still here?"

"Harris?" Catherine nodded. "Sure, he's out in the waiting room talking to Jim."

This time it was Grissom's turn to narrow his eyes. "And did you know he was following us?"

"Not until yesterday." She grudgingly admitted. "I overheard Galetti on the phone giving him a rundown of the schedule for Ellie's service and put two and two together. When I confronted Paul, he told me that Harris had been shadowing you for most of the week." She chuckled. "You did manage to give him the slip this morning though; I got a panicked phone call at eight o'clock because they'd just discovered you'd left your building an hour and a half earlier than they were expecting."

"Early outpatient appointment." Grissom explained. "I changed it yesterday so there wouldn't be any rush getting to the chapel." He shrugged. "Although, if I'd known we were going to be spending the afternoon here anyway, I never would have bothered."

"You know, I hate asking this but I have to..." Watching him carefully, Catherine took a deep breath before continuing. "Are you sure that it _wasn't_ an accident?"

"Positive." He didn't hesitate. "I know that car, Cath; there was nothing wrong with the brakes."

"Well then..." Nibbling on her bottom lip, she pondered all the possibilities. "If somebody tampered with them, odds are it happened while you were here this morning." She looked up. "Where were you parked? Maybe we can pull the security footage."

"Actually, I think there's a chance that it actually occurred at Captain Brass' house." Stepping into the room, Frank Harris looked from one CSI to the other. "I took off for ten minutes to grab some lunch just after everyone had arrived back after the funeral." He focused on Grissom. "I figured you were safe enough considering you were surrounded by cops but I guess I was wrong."

"We were parked right in front of Jim's house." Grissom pointed out. "If that's where it happened, someone ran a hell of a big risk of being seen."

"That's what we're counting on." Harris told him. "The captain's making some calls now and we should have officers out canvassing the neighborhood shortly."

"Well, fingers crossed somebody saw something." Catherine commented. "It's about time we caught a break on this damn thing."

"I'm going to head off over there and see if I can help out." Clearly uncomfortable, the agent shifted awkwardly from side to side. "I just wanted to make sure that you were going to be alright."

Yeah." Grissom's nod was somewhat curt. "I'll be fine."

"And Ms. Sidle?"

"The same." Grissom told him. "Don't worry about us; we got off lightly."

"Well, that's good then." His smile tight, Harris stepped back towards the door. "I left instructions for your car to be taken back to the lab; I figured you'd want your own people to process it."

"I do." With a nod of agreement, Grissom pushed himself upright and held out his right hand. "Thank you, Agent Harris." He waited for the other man to shake before speaking again. "For everything."

For the first time since they'd known him, Harris' face broke into a genuine, if self-conscious, smile and with a nod in Catherine's direction, he retreated from the room.

"He's not so bad once you get used to him." Listening to the agent's footsteps disappearing along the corridor, Catherine smiled. "You know, I think he's actually done you a favor by writing off that car."

Grissom started at the words. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if you're going to be carting a kid around, Gil you really need something a bit safer than that clapped out old Mercedes." She shrugged. "You know; air bags, ABS, that kind of thing."

The only comment she received was a pointed glare.

"What?" Eyebrows quirked in question, Catherine's tone took on a teasing quality. "Now you're going to tell me it wasn't you that stood up in front of a room full of people and confessed to playing hide the sausage with your best friend's daughter?"

Grissom rolled his eyes at the description. "I don't remember phrasing it quite like that."

"It was what you implied though, wasn't it?" Catherine queried doing her best to keep a straight face. "Unless, of course, the two of you employed the old turkey baster method but that would mean the conception was deliberate and, up till now, you've been swearing blind that Caleb wasn't yours."

With a nonchalant shrug, Grissom brushed the comment off. "Looks like I was wrong then, doesn't it?"

"No you weren't." Serious now, Catherine spoke with conviction. "That is _not_ your kid."

"I have a birth certificate and a custody order that says that he is."

"And neither of them is worth the paper they're written on." Eyeing him steadily, she sighed in exasperation. "Look, there's nothing wrong with helping a friend out now and then but we're talking about a pretty big favor here."

"I am aware of that, Catherine."

"Are you sure you've thought this through properly?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yes."

"_Both_ of you?"

"Sara was fully involved in the decision making, Cath." Grissom's smile was easy as he tried to reassure her. "Don't worry; both she and I know exactly what we're doing."

"I'm not entirely convinced that you do." Determined to get her point across, Catherine persevered. "Don't get me wrong, I love Jim to death but I'm not sure I'd want to jump into that kind of relationship with him. We've all seen what he's been like lately; he is not going to be a passive grandparent."

"And nor should he be but it won't be a problem; honestly, we've talked everything through and we all know where we stand."

"Well I hope you do because I'd hate to see it all go wrong – for all your sakes." Finally conceding defeat, she shook her head. "Well, if nothing else, Elaine will get a real kick out of hearing about this." She chuckled. "She's going to love it."

"And you just can't wait to tell her, can you?" Grissom's weary sigh held more than a hint of resignation. "You two seem to be getting on remarkably well."

"I like her." Catherine answered simply. "Plus she has a lot of pull over at UNLV and I have a teenage daughter who, _please God_, will be going to college in just a few years time." She shrugged good-naturedly. "It's all about who you know nowadays, Gil; you should know that."

"Well, in that case, I'm glad I could hook the two of you up." He frowned as he checked the time. "Sara should be back by now."

"Don't worry about it; they're probably just hanging round for the results." Leaning forward, Catherine got back to business. "So, what do you want done with the Mercedes after we've finished with it?"

"Have Greg lock it up with the Mustang for the time being; I'll have a look at it on Monday night and decide what I'm going to do."

"You're still coming back to work on Monday?"

"That's the plan." Grissom smiled at her surprise. "We've got a busy week ahead of us, remember – the killer's due to get in touch plus it's the week of the double murd-"

He cut himself off as a harried looking nurse suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Dr. Grissom?" She cast a quick glance at both occupants before turning all her attention towards the gurney. "We just got a call from the third floor and they need you up there straight away; apparently, there's some kind of problem."

TBC

_A/N2: The next chapter is a short one so I am more than happy to give you a 100% iron-clad guarantee that it __won't__ take three weeks to appear. ;)_

_Thanks for reading._


	35. Chapter 35

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 35**

"How long ago did it happen?" Flanked on one side by Catherine and the other by the scrub-clad nurse who had met them at the elevator, Grissom strode purposefully along the third floor corridor.

"Almost two hours ago." The nurse, a good half foot shorter than either of her companions, struggled to match their pace. "She was admitted late last night but the only thing we could really do was to try and make her comfortable.; she slipped into a coma around six o'clock this morning and died without regaining consciousness."

"And he's been here with her the whole time?" Grissom's tone was terse.

"Yes, he refused to leave." She nodded quickly. "It's not all that unusual with late-stage cases, especially when it's obvious that the end is so close." She sighed regretfully. "We offered to call a family member to be with him but he told us that there wasn't anybody else."

"That's the story he gave me too."

Grissom bit back a groan as his recently-repaired abdominal muscles began to protest the punishing pace and, with the speed dropping off, the young nurse was finally able to catch up.

"We finally managed to get your name and cell phone number out of him but when we tried getting in touch the call was answered by a police officer who said you'd just been involved in a traffic accident; that's when we tracked you down to the ER." Pulling to a stop, she pointed to the closed door of room 336. "This is the room they're in."

"Okay." Grissom exhaled heavily as he stared at the wood-veneer door. "Give me ten minutes or so to talk to him and then we'll see about getting him out of here."

"Thank you." For the first time since she'd met them, the nurse smiled. "We generally like to give people time to be alone to come to terms with what's just happened but he's been in there so long now and..." She shrugged helplessly. "... there are things we really need to do."

"I understand." With a quick glance to his left, he offered her a polite smile. "Like I said, I'll get him out of here as quickly as I can."

With an appreciative nod, the nurse returned to her duties and Catherine waited until she was out of sight before speaking up.

"I can't believe that his mother was dying and he never said a word." Suddenly realizing how close she was to the room, she lowered her voice so as not to be overheard. "Normally, that man craves attention and he'd have had no end of it if he'd told people what was going on."

"Well, he didn't want it this time." Turning from her, Grissom stared once again at the door. "He only let me in on it a couple of weeks ago and he probably wouldn't have done that if I hadn't forced it out of him." He shook his head at the memory of Hodges 'interrogation'. "I arranged for immediate leave and made him promise to keep in touch but I never heard from him and I've been so wrapped up in everything else that's been going on that I never really gave it another thought." With a weary sigh, he scrubbed his hand across his face. "I should have checked up on him."

"From where - your hospital bed?" Catherine allowed herself a quick chuckle. "You've had your own problems to deal with, remember; you can't be expected to do everything."

"Maybe so but I should never have forgotten about him." With a heavy sigh, he turned to look back along the corridor. "Jim's waiting for Sara, right?"

"He certainly is and, the minute she'd released, the two of them will head up here." With a smile, she nodded towards the closed door. "You want me to come with you?"

"No, that's okay." Tempting though the offer was Grissom knew he couldn't take her up on it. "I think it'll be better if I go in alone."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Reaching out, he pushed down on the handle and, taking a deep breath, eased the door open and ventured inside.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Grissom stood still, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the much lower light level of the darkened room after the bright fluorescent glare of the hallway outside. Within seconds, the room took shape – the large hospital bed with its much too still occupant, the blank screened monitors that had, until recently, been charting the final moments of a life and finally, alone and seemingly unaware, the familiar shape of David Hodges seated, his head down, on the far side of his mother's deathbed.

"I'm sorry, David."

"It was so quick." Hodges spoke without looking up. "After everything she's been through, the end was just so quick."

"That's something to be grateful for." Stepping closer to the bed, Grissom gazed down compassionately at the newly-deceased woman. "She's not suffering anymore, David; she's at peace now."

Lying on her back with the sheet pulled up over her chest and her head tilted slightly towards her son, Dorothy Hodges' body showed clearly the ravages of her disease. Her face was drawn, the sunken cheeks and pallid, gray complexion a testament to the battle she'd spent the past months fighting whilst the stick-thin arms and almost skeletal hands that lay, lightly clasped atop the sheet, spoke of a fragility and frailty that only terminal illness can bring.

"Yes, I guess she is." Leaning in, Hodges lovingly ran his hand over his mother's steel-grey hair. He was unshaven, the clothing that he wore wrinkled and stained and, even a bed's width away, Grissom could clearly discern the sour tang of stale sweat that emanated from the usually neat and tidy lab tech. "Knowing that doesn't make it any easier though."

"No, I don't suppose it does." Looking around, Grissom caught sight of a second chair and pulled it over to the bed. "Losing someone you love is always hard; especially when it's a parent."

"Have you?" Smoothing his hand lovingly across her brow, Hodges' voice was calm and expressionless "Lost a parent I mean."

Grissom hesitated for only a moment. "Yes." He nodded. "My father."

"And how did you cope with it?"

"I was nine, David." Grissom smiled gently. "I'm not sure that you can really compare my experience with your own."

"I don't know." With his attention fixed firmly on his mother, Hodges shrugged. "Right now I feel like I'm about that age."

"That's only natural." Leaning back, Grissom tried to make himself comfortable on the hard plastic seat. "It doesn't seem to matter what age you are when it happens, when a parent dies you're automatically thrust back into the role of a child."

"And is it natural to feel relieved?" His eyes darted up quickly before Hodges looking away again, clearly embarrassed by what he'd just uttered. "Forget I said that; I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did." Giving up on the chair, Grissom made his way around to the other side of the bed. "Look David, nothing you'll be feeling in the next couple of weeks will be _un_natural, okay?" Reaching out, he laid his hand lightly on the other man's shoulder. "You're going to experience all kinds of different things – sadness, emptiness, anger, fear, resentment, even hate." He shrugged. "You're going to go through all of that and more but the one thing you have to remember is that none of it is wrong; it's all just part of the grieving process."

"I feel like I've been grieving for months now."

"And in a way you have but that was more for what you were about to lose." Pausing for a moment, Grissom looked down at the bed. "Now, you have to grief for what you've lost."

With a heavy nod, Hodges drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"When did you last sleep, David?"

"I don't know." Both shoulders rose in a weary shrug. "A couple of days ago, I suppose." Hodges quickly dragged his hand across his eyes. "She'd been really..." He paused as he struggled for a description. "... unsettled since the beginning of the week and I couldn't leave her alone. I tried sleeping in an armchair at the respite center but..." Glancing up, he got his first good look at Grissom and frowned. "What happened to you?"

"When?" Despite the circumstances, Grissom managed a low chuckle as he tugged self-consciously at the blue sling that was supporting his injured arm. "Last week or this morning?" Seeing the other man's frown deepen, he shook his head. "Don't worry about; we can fill you in later."

His only reply was a distracted nod and he watched as Hodges' attention returned once more to his mother.

"You know, David, I never got a chance to say goodbye to my father; he simply came home one day, lay down for a nap and never woke up again. There was no lead up, no signs and no way of knowing I would never get the chance to speak to him again." Closing his eyes, Grissom sighed heavily as a wave of memories washed over him. "You were, at least, given that. You were allowed the opportunity to prepare yourself, to get used to the idea of your mom not being around and, more importantly, to say a proper goodbye to her."

"The problem is I don't think I'm really ready to say it for the final time." Dropping his head, Hodges muttered admission was barely audible.

"Nobody ever is..." Grissom pointed out. "...but it's something that has to be done." Lifting his hand from the tech's shoulder, he made his way back around the bed. "Come on, David; it's time to go."

"I ..." Scrubbing his hand across his face, Hodges gave his head a quick shake. "I'm not sure I have anywhere _to_ go." He looked up plaintively. "I can't go back to the house, not yet; I don't think I could face that now."

"That's okay, you don't have to." With his fingers around the door handle, Grissom smiled gently at the grieving man. "We'll sort something out for you."

With a slow nod, Hodges pushed reluctantly to his feet and, stepping close to the bed, he stared down with a sad smile before looking up to meet Grissom's concerned gaze. "I think I want to do this alone."

"You sure?" At the tech's terse nod, Grissom pushed down on the handle. "Okay then, I'll be right outside."

As the door latched behind him, he leant back against it with a tired sigh; an all-too familiar throbbing had made itself at home above his right temple and, raising his hand, he massaged the area hoping that the action would be enough to negate the migraine that he knew was just waiting to pounce. He never heard Catherine's quiet approach and jerked in surprise as she laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Sorry." With an apologetic smile, she held out a polystyrene cup. "I thought you'd probably need this." She waited for him to take it, watching as he sipped at the steaming hot coffee, before gesturing towards the closed door. "How's he doing?"

"He's okay." Relaxing slightly, Grissom shrugged "Well, as okay as you can be under the circumstances." Looking both ways along the corridor, he frowned. "Sara's not here yet?"

"Not yet but I'm sure she won't be long." At the sound of hurried footsteps approaching, Catherine grinned. "In fact, I bet you this is her now."

Rounding the corner, Jim Brass by her side, Sara's face split into a relieved smile as she caught sight of the two people waiting for her. Bypassing Catherine with barely a glance, she stepped in close to Grissom as her expression changed to one of open concern.

"Jim told me what happened." She spoke quickly, her eyes darting almost furtively towards the still closed hospital room door. "How's Hodges?"

"He's just saying his goodbyes; he should be out in a minute or two." Reaching out, Grissom lightly traced the fresh scratch that marred her cheek and jaw. "More importantly, how are you?"

"The x-rays were clear." Relaxing, the smile returned. "According to the doctor, it's just a couple of strained muscles." Sara attempted a shrug only to suck in a quick breath at the sharp twinge the movement caused. "I've been told to go home, pop a couple of Advil and take it easy for the next couple of days."

"Well, in that case, we'll get you there as soon as possible." Glancing past her, Grissom addressed himself to Brass. "Do you think you could you take her back to the condo, Jim?"

"Uh... "Catherine quickly held up a restraining finger. "I think that should have been 'us' not just 'her'." Stepping forward, she all but snatched the still full coffee cup from Grissom's hand. "You're going home too."

"I can't." With a rueful sigh, Grissom quickly shook his head. "Not just now anyway. I told David I'd be out here waiting for him _plus_ I have to find somewhere that he can stay." He shrugged. "I can't let him down any more than I already have."

"You won't be letting him down." Catherine pointed out. "While you were in there with him, I was making calls to Wendy and Henry and, right now, both of them are on their way over here to take charge." Reaching over, she patted his arm. "I'll stay right here until they arrive so, don't worry, he'll be well looked after."

"I don't know..." Grissom didn't look entirely convinced. "… it kind of feels like I'm abandoning him again."

"I assure you, it will _not_ be abandonment." She grinned. "Given the choice between you and Wendy as a shoulder to cry on, he's going to pick her every time." With a conspiratorial wink in Brass' direction, she cocked her head towards the exit. "Go on Jim, take them home."

With a sense of satisfaction, Catherine watched them turn only to be struck by one final idea.

"Oh, and Gil?" She waited until he looked back before continuing. "Unless it's an absolute emergency, I don't want to see or hear from you before Monday, okay?"

"But what about the Mercedes?" Surprised by the unexpected edict, Grissom frowned. "If you're going to start processing it tonight then you should have some idea what-"

"Whatever we find will wait until Monday" With her arms crossed over her chest, Catherine was brooking no argument. "I mean it, Gil; if you're stupid enough to insist on coming back to work so soon after everything that's happened then the least you can do is make sure that you're well rested." With a determined smile, she switched her attention to Sara. "And that goes for both of you."

"Catherine!"

There was no mistaking the warning in Grissom's tone but Catherine was having none of it.

"Don't 'Catherine' me." Smiling at the petulant, pissed off glare that was now being directed her way, she rolled her eyes. "Look, if anything truly important crops up then _I _will call _you_ but, until then, I want you to kick back, relax and enjoy the weekend, okay? We've got everything covered."

"She's making sense, you know." Slipping his arm companionably through Sara's, Jim smiled. "For someone who's supposed to be on sick leave you've barely spent any time at home this week; it might be smart to spend the next few days doing absolutely nothing." He shrugged good-naturedly. "What do you say? I'll drop the two of you off and then head over and hit the market to see what I can find us for dinner. Who knows, I might even cook it for you when I get back."

"Well, I can hardly miss that now, can I?" With a defeated sigh, Grissom finally gave in. "All right Cath, you win; we'll go home and, I promise, you won't hear a sound out of us for the whole weekend." Expression changing, he smiled. "But come Monday night, I'll be back in the saddle and as soon as I am, we're not going to stop until we catch whoever it is that's doing all of this. They think they're clever sneaking round and playing games ..." The smile suddenly turned cold and determined. "...they ain't seen nothing yet!"


	36. Chapter 36

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 36**

"There's no need to walk me to the door, you know." Reaching across with his right hand, Grissom undid his seatbelt and allowed it to retract back into its housing. "I'm pretty sure I can make it inside all by myself."

"I have no doubt that you could." Pulling her keys from the Sentra's ignition, Elaine Grogan reached over to the back seat to retrieve her purse. "But when Sara called me this afternoon and asked if I'd mind giving you a ride in to the lab, she made me promise that I'd make sure you got here in one piece and I take my promises seriously." Rolling her eyes at the exasperated sigh her words produced, she smiled. "So, whether you like it or not, I'm not leaving here until you're safely through those doors."

"There's no need for that, Elaine." Fingers curling around the door handle, Grissom graced her with a reassuring smile. "Shift doesn't start for another half hour and I thought I'd spend that time out in the old garage; I'm pretty sure Greg will be there and..." He gestured blindly over his shoulder, knowing without having to check, that the unmarked black sedan that had followed them from the condo would be lurking somewhere around the large lot. "My new best friend back there will, no doubt, be watching my every move anyway so nothing's going to happen."

"Good, then we'll both be safe." Throwing open the driver's door, Elaine got out. "Well, come on; I'll bet you're just dying to go and see those cars."

"I'd forgotten how stubborn you can be." With a sigh of resignation, he climbed from the small sedan and stepped up onto the sidewalk. "All right, you win."

"Was there ever any doubt that I would?" With a satisfied grin, she quickly locked the Sentra and fell in beside him. "Thank you for dinner by the way; I enjoyed it very much."

"Even though you had to cut up my steak?" With a wry smile, Grissom held up his still splinted left hand. "You'd think I'd have known to order something a little easier to handle, wouldn't you?"

"I didn't mind; it was fun." Elaine chuckled as she remembered the embarrassed look on his face when he'd been forced to hand his plate across to her. "But, don't think I've forgotten about that other meal you promised me, Italian if I remember correctly _and_ Sara's supposed to be there too."

"She will be, I promise." Leading her around the corner of the building, Grissom shrugged good naturedly. "Just give us a week or so to get back into the swing of things and we'll set something up."

"You'd better make it soon while you still have the chance." Slipping her arm through his, she bit back a smirk. "The two of you aren't going to have the time, or energy, for entertaining once your son comes home."

Grissom rolled his eyes at the comment. "Catherine has a big mouth."

"Yes, she does." Elaine concurred, her voice taking on a slightly censuring tone. "But she was doing nothing more than keeping me informed which was more than you'd thought to do, wasn't it?" She shook her head. "I have to say, I was somewhat surprised when she told me; I mean, after everything that happened back in Minneapolis, I thought-"

Her words stopped Grissom in his tracks. "You haven't told her about that, have you?"

"Of course I haven't." She tutted impatiently. "For goodness sakes, Gil, I promised you weeks ago that I wouldn't and I meant it; in fact, the only person I have discussed it with is Sara and I only did that because she brought the subject up first." With a tug on his arm, she urged him onwards again. "You do realize that you're going to have to move again though, don't you? That apartment of yours might be fine for a while but once that boy really starts to find his feet you're going to need somewhere a little more toddler-friendly _and_ there's the dog to consider too." She bit her lip as she thought. "You're probably going to want to look at houses with a decent sized garden, fenced of course, _and _in a good school zone – I can help you out with that informa-"

"Don't go jumping the gun, okay?" Butting in quickly, Grissom cut her off. "We haven't even found him yet so how about we concentrate on that first and everything else can be sorted out later." Rounding the back of the building, he nodded towards the RAV4 parked at the side of the old garage. "See, I told you Greg would be around here somewhere."

Stepping inside, out of the cool night air, both newcomer's attention was captured by different things: Elaine came to an almost immediate stop, her gaze riveted on the ground at her feet while Grissom continued forward, his pace slowing, as he stared in amazement at the vehicle before him.

Up on blocks in the middle of its bay, the Mustang was, most definitely, a work in progress. The hood, trunk lid and all four doors had been stripped from the chassis and now lay propped against the rear wall alongside the discarded wheels. The bumper bars had been removed as had the door handles, hood latches and every other piece of chrome the old car possessed. The rusted out tailpipes and muffler had been piled haphazardly beneath the wooden workbench whilst a brand-new exhaust system, still securely wrapped in protective plastic, had been laid out neatly beside the big car ready for installation.

"Jeez..." Carefully edging his way around the back of the car, he shook his head at the amount of work that had been accomplished. "Cath told me that he'd been busy out here but I had no idea he'd done all this."

"Gil?" Her face pale, Elaine finally managed to drag her gaze away from the freshly scrubbed section of cement that lay in front of the vehicle. "Please tell me this isn't where you were attacked?"

"Um..." Caught up in the examination of a partially disassembled alternator that had been left on the workbench to his left, Grissom barely glanced in her direction. "Possibly."

"Actually, that's where we found him." Stepping in through the doorway, his arms full of soda cans, Greg came to a halt at Elaine's side. "We did our best to clean it up but Nick swears he can still see the stains." He shrugged carefully, trying his hardest not to drop anything from his load. "Might have to wait until we can move the Mustang out of here to do it properly."

"From the looks of her that's going to be sooner than I thought." Having made a complete lap of the car, Grissom came to a stop by the front fender. "How much time have you been spending on this thing?"

"Oh, it's not just been me." Greg hurried to put the record straight. "I've had a fair bit of help over the last week or so." Making his way towards the back of the garage, he quickly stashed the cans in the small bar fridge before turning back. "Do you remember that suspect Mandy came up with?" Both eyebrows rose in question as he stared at his boss. "The one whose prints turned up when Nick and Catherine processed the car?"

"Yeah, vaguely." Frowning in concentration, Grissom struggled for a name. "Ross something, wasn't it?"

"Ross Martin." Giving the scrubbed concrete a wide berth, Elaine moved forward to join the two men. "He's the neighbor's son that I had look at the Mustang before I handed it over." She sighed wistfully. "Poor boy, all he wants to do is get his life back in order and, thanks to me, he ended up being hauled in and questioned for hours over something he didn't do."

"Well, he's certainly not holding any grudges." Greg told her with a smile. "He turns up here every morning at 7 o'clock and the two of us get to work." Looking over at Grissom, he shrugged. "Ross is out of work at the moment and he says tinkering about out here is good practice for him; we put in a couple of hours and then I buy him breakfast at the diner."

Grissom cocked his head towards the small fridge. "Along with every drink under the sun and God knows what else." He allowed his gaze to shift towards the exhaust system before looking back at the younger CSI. "How much have you spent on all of this, Greg?"

"I don't know..." Greg shrugged. "Three or four hundred maybe." Shifting uncomfortably under what he took to be a disapproving glare, he started babbling. "I've got all the receipts at home cause I knew you'd want to see them and I'm sorry if I've overstepped the mark it's just we've needed some things over the past week and I didn't want to disturb you at home while you were-"

"Whoa; slow down." Holding up his right hand, Grissom brought the flow of words to a stop. "You haven't overstepped any marks, Greg; I appreciate everything that you've done but I think, from now on, I'll foot the bills, okay?" He thought for a moment. "In fact, there's a place down on Nellis that I checked out a couple of weeks back that specializes in classic renovations so how about I open up an account? Anything that you need, you can get from there and, if they don't have it, they'll order it in but, in the meantime, I want you to bring in those receipts you've collected and I'll make sure you're repaid." Seeing the younger man relax again, Grissom smiled. "If you're enjoying what you're doing out here then I'm more than happy for you to continue but I'm certainly not to going to make you pay for the privilege."

"And Ross?"

"Well, I'd like to meet him first but..." Grissom gestured back towards the Mustang. "...considering how far he's helped you get, I'd be pretty stupid to refuse his expertise." He paused a moment as a sudden thought struck. "You have cleared him with Ecklie, right? He doesn't have any problems with him being here?"

"Ecklie's fine with it." Greg hurried to reassure him. "He had a couple of concerns at first but, eventually, he agreed provided Ross doesn't go anywhere near either the lab or the morgue and is never left out here alone." He shrugged quickly. "It means a hike down to the gas station on the corner if he needs to use the men's room but Ross doesn't seem to mind; I think he's just happy to be doing something that he loves."

"Okay then, I'll stop by and introduce myself in the morning." Satisfied that the younger man had everything under control, Grissom turned his back on the Ford and nodded over towards the mangled remains of the Mercedes in the second of the garage's four bays. "Now, you want to fill me in on what's happening with this one?"

"Wouldn't you rather wait until Catherine gets here?" Stepping across the empty space that separated the two cars, Greg came to a halt beside the Mercedes' concertinaed front end. "I mean, she made it a point to process the car herself; it'll probably spoil her fun if I'm the one who tells you what was found."

"As far as I'm concerned, Catherine has way too much fun around here already." Still slightly piqued by his second-in-command's indiscretions, Grissom shot Elaine a meaningful glance as they both moved closer to join the younger man. "Come on, Greg; just give me the gist of it, okay? What happened to my brakes?"

"Water contamination." He answered simply. "We checked absolutely everything before we found it..." Raising his hand, he ticked off each items as he spoke. "Brake lines, brake pads, fluid levels; everything seemed to be fine and then Cath decided to run a sample of the brake fluid through the GCMS." He shrugged. "And that's what it told us – someone had topped up the reservoir with plain old H²O."

"Water?" Elaine frowned as she looked from one man to the other and then down at the trashed car. "Water was enough to cause all of this damage?"

"It's one of the simpler methods of tampering with someone's brakes." Leaning down, Grissom peered inside through the broken driver's window as he spoke. "And one of the hardest to detect; all you have to do is add something, like water, to the brake fluid so that it lowers the boiling point." Shaking his head at the mess that had been his car, he looked up again. "Once the system starts to heat up, vapor pockets form which displace the fluid and affect the compression – you can jam the pedal all the way to the floor but, of course, the brakes won't work. The real beauty of it though is that, once everything cools down again, it all looks normal; unless you do a chemical analysis of the brake fluid, there's no way of telling that it's been contaminated." Turning, he faced Greg. "Prints?"

"None to speak of." Greg told him. "We did pull a couple of smudges off both the hood latch and from around the master cylinder but there's not enough there to run them through AFIS."

"Odds are that they're probably mine anyway." Grissom commented. "Our guy's not stupid so I'd imagine he was wearing gloves when he did it." One eyebrow quirked in question. "What about Jim's neighbors? Any luck with that door knock?"

"Well, most of them knew that it was Ellie's funeral that day and there were a lot of different people and vehicles about so, for the most part, they didn't really pay too much attention to what was happening in the street." Greg took a deep breath before continuing on. "However, the elderly lady that lives opposite did report one man hanging around that she didn't like the look of; in her words he was 'definitely the criminal type' and, according to her, he spent a fair amount of time loitering around your car."

"That sounds promising." Elaine commented hopefully.

"Yeah, that's what everyone thought." Turning slightly, Greg smiled across at her. "Until we worked out that the person she had given us a description of was Sheriff Burdick." Looking back at Grissom, he shrugged. "Turns out his wife had called him on his cell phone and he'd wandered out to the street to take it in private."

"So, it's another blowout." Grissom shook his head dejectedly. "I don't know why I thought it'd be anything else." With a heavy sigh, he checked his watch. "Are you about done out here, Greg? We should probably start getting ready for shift."

"Yep, I just need to tidy up a bit and then I'm good to go." Greg quickly nodded his agreement as he made his way back towards the workbench. "So, Sara's inside already?"

"No actually, she's not here yet." With Elaine following closely behind, Grissom wandered across to join the younger man. "She should be on her way though; she promised she wouldn't be late."

"She's all right, isn't she?" In the midst of moving the alternator and all its pieces to a safer position, Greg frowned. "I mean, I know she was shaken up in the accident but I thought-"

"Relax, Greg; she's fine." Hearing the beep of an incoming text message from his cell phone, Grissom pulled it from his pocket. "Apparently, I'm not allowed to know what it is she's up to at the moment but I _do_ know it has nothing to do with what happened on Friday."

Lifting the phone to eyelevel, he read the incoming number and instantly froze.

"Gil?" Concerned, Elaine placed her hand gently on his arm. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"It's him." Grissom's voice was flat and emotionless as he continued to stare at the handset. "It's the killer."

"What?" Greg was around the Mustang and by his side in seconds. "Are you sure? I mean, it's no where near midnight yet; isn't he a day early?"

"Early or not, it's definitely him." Taking a deep, steadying breath, Grissom turned the phone to show him the screen. "And I'm sure it is because the cell phone that he's using belonged to Ellie Brass."

TBC


	37. Chapter 37

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 37**

"Hey." Stepping in through the break room's open doorway, Sara smiled warmly at the room's two occupants before settling her attention firmly on Grissom. "Greg just told me that I've been missing out on all the fun."

"Well, I'm not sure fun's the word for it." With a gentle smile of his own, Grissom rifled through the manila folder in front of him. "Our _friend_ decided to get in touch a little earlier than expected." Finding what he was after, he slid an A4 sheet of paper across the tabletop towards her. "That's a transcript of the text message he sent me."

Picking it up, she read the short missive out loud. "I love modern technology; things are so much easier now compared to 1888 - keep an eye on your email." Looking up again, she shrugged. "But that could be from anyone."

"Not using my daughter's cell phone, it couldn't." Seated opposite Grissom, Jim Brass shook his head. "But, even without that, how many people knew that we were expecting to be contacted by someone tonight; especially a serial killer who's decided to use a Victorian murderer as a template? No Sara, it's definitely him."

"Okay." Moving swiftly to the simmering coffee pot, she poured herself a cup before returning to take a seat. "What does the phone company have to say about it?"

"Not a lot." Pulling a second sheet of paper from his file, Grissom quickly scanned the contents. "The phone was logged on their system for just over four minutes at around half past nine tonight; Greg and Archie tested it and that's about how long it would take for the average person to type up that two sentence and then send the message. The signal was picked up by the tower on the corner of Lone Mountain Road and Decatur so we know it was made from somewhere in North Las Vegas but that's about all."

"Catherine's talking to the company now." Brass added. "She's making sure that they know that we need to be informed as soon as that phone gets turned on again." He sighed. "_If_ it gets turned on again, that is; since it's apparently served its purpose, I'm willing to bet that he tosses it somewhere."

"So, what now; we just wait for him to get in touch?"

"That's about all we can do." Gathering the papers together again, Grissom pushed them back into the folder. "I think the text message was a heads-up; he's letting us know that he's back on track and we better be ready for him."

"Kind of hard to be ready for something when you have no idea what's coming." Jim pointed out as his gaze dropped to towards the hard plastic splint that encased his friend's left hand. "After all, we know he's willing to change the rules." Looking up again, he locked eyes with Grissom. "Both you and Ellie are proof of that."

"Yeah well, we'll just have to stop him before he gets another chance to demonstrate that again." Shifting self-consciously under the detective's level gaze, Grissom turned back to address Sara. "I've given Archie full access to my email and he's going to be monitoring it throughout shift tonight so he'll let us know the minute something comes in but, until then, it'll just be business as usual." Reaching across for his own cup, he took a sip of the lukewarm liquid before deciding on a change of subject. "So, did you get whatever it was you were doing done?"

"My part of it, yeah." Biting back a satisfied grin, Sara's shoulders rose in an apparently indifferent shrug. "The rest of it is up to someone else but I think everything's under control."

"You're still not going to tell me what it is, are you?" Frowning at the determined headshake that greeted his question, Grissom narrowed his eyes. "I thought we agreed on no more secrets?"

"We did and we're going to keep to it too but, the way I see it, this is less of a secret and more of a necessity." Placing her cup down, she smiled at the somewhat dubious expression her sentence had produced. "Look, I'll tell you all about as soon as the time is right but, until then, you're just going to have to trust me, okay?"

Opening his mouth to respond, Grissom was silenced by the sudden appearance in the doorway of a smiling Nick Stokes.

"Hey, Boss." Stepping into the room, the Texan's grin widened to encompass the others at the table as stopped beside Sara's chair. "It's good to have you back."

"Thank you, Nick; it's good to be back." With a nod of acknowledgement, Grissom watched as the younger man took a seat. "Are the others about? We should probably get things started."

"Yeah, they're just coming now." Nick hooked his thumb towards the corridor. "I left Warrick and Greg in the locker room and Catherine was in the layout room as I went by; I'm pretty sure she was just finishing up so she should be here in a minute or so."

"Good." Pulling the night's assignment slips from his pocket, Grissom nodded. "It looks like a pretty slow night but I think there's enough here to keep you all busy."

"I thought we'd be working the Ripper case." Nick frowned. "Greg was just telling us about the message you got tonight; I figured we'd be concentrating on that."

"There's not really anything more we can do at the moment." Grissom told him pausing for a moment as both Warrick and Greg joined them at the table. "It's just a matter of waiting."

"I hope the coffee in that pot is fresh." With barely a glance at the table's occupants, Catherine strode determinedly across the room intent on a caffeine fix. "I don't know where that phone company has its headquarters but, I swear, none of those people speak English."

"You managed to get through to someone though, right?" Grissom asked warily as he watched her sniff suspiciously at her freshly poured cup. "I mean, they do understand how important this is, don't they?"

"Well, they do now but it took me the better part of half an hour to get hold of someone I could actually understand." Seeing his concern, she rolled her eyes. "Relax, okay; it's all under control." Leaning back against the counter, she cautiously sipped at the cup before deciding it was fine. "Oh, and I saw Galetti out by reception, he said he had a couple of calls to make and then he'd join you and Jim in your office so he can bring you both up to speed."

"Okay, let's get this done then." Tapping the assignment slips on the table, Grissom eyed the waiting group. "I've got a liquor store hold-up out on Desert Inn Road and a suspicious circs down in Henderson; who wants- "

"Hey Griss?"

Cut off mid-sentence, Grissom turned quickly towards the door and the eager face of Archie Johnson.

"Your mail just arrived."

* * *

Seated beside Archie in front of the A/V tech's computer monitor, Grissom read through the email for the second time. "You're tracing this, right?"

"As we speak." With a quick Alt-Tab, Archie brought up the steadily running tracking software. "It might take quarter of an hour or so to backtrack to the source but this should be able to tell us exactly where this message originated from."

"So, are you boys going to keep it to yourselves or do the rest of us get to see it too?" Standing just a few feet away, Catherine had been trying unsuccessfully to read over Grissom's shoulder since she'd entered the room.

"Yeah, of course." Suddenly remembering the group behind him, Grissom glanced back with an apologetic smile. "Sorry." Turning back, he nodded towards the tech. "Put it up on the big screen, Archie."

As the large LCD panel at the front of the room lit up, everyone attention was caught by the displayed letter.

_Welcome back Dr. Grissom,_

_I hope you don't mind the roundabout route I've chosen but I wasn't too sure you'd be convinced I was genuine without proof of some kind; that's why I decided to make my initial contact by text message. I assume you recognized the number and, that you've now been persuaded that I am, indeed, who I'm claiming to be. _

_I really must congratulate you on the way you've managed to keep a tight lid on my presence here in Las Vegas. A lesser man would probably take offense at the lack of notoriety they'd managed to achieve, however, I have absolutely no desire for unnecessary publicity; as far as I am concerned, the last thing either of us needs is an unending parade of hoaxers and amateur detectives cluttering up the playing field. I'd much rather keep things strictly between the two of us._

_I did consider taunting you tonight with a straight copy of one of my 'original' letters but I believe history has since proven that none of them were actually written by me and, given the multitude of spelling and grammatical errors they contain, I'd really rather not associate myself with them any more than I have to. There was, however, one piece that I've always been fond of, yet another fake I'm afraid, but there is one particular line in it that I hope you'll like just as much as I do:_

Eight little whores, with no hope of heaven

Gladstone may save one, then there'll be seven

Seven little whores beggin for a shilling

One stays in Henage Court, then there's a killing

Six little whores, glad to be alive

One Sidles up to Jack, then there are five

Four and whore rhyme aright

So do three and me

I'll set the town alight

Ere there are two

Two little whores, shivering with fright

Seek a cosy doorway in the middle of the night

Jack's knife flashes, then there's but one

And the last one's the ripest for Jack's idea of fun

_Happy hunting, Gil - I'll see you on the battlefield,_

_Jack_

_P.S. My decision to kill Ellie Brass was not taken lightly; under normal circumstances, I never would have given her a second glance but she thrust herself into my path and became a distraction that had to be taken are of. I don't suppose it will be much comfort to her father at the moment but please assure the good Captain that I dispatched her quickly and with the minimum of fuss; after all, I wouldn't want anyone to think that I'm completely heartless._

"Shit!"

The quietly uttered oath almost echoed around the silent room as everyone continued to stare at the screen.

"You okay, Jim?" Glancing over, Catherine watched as both of the detective's hands balled into tight fists.

"Yeah." Allowing his hands to unfurl, Brass took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Does he mean the line I think he does?" Standing at the back of the lab, Paul Galetti addressed his question to the room at large.

"Sixth one down." Turning from the screen, Grissom's eyes locked with Sara's. "In the original verse, that second word does not begin with a capital letter."

"Sidle." Greg almost spat out the word before looking up in astonishment. "He's making a direct threat towards Sara."

"We don't know that, Greg." Keeping her voice as level as possible, Sara tried for a nonchalant shrug. "For all we know, it could just be a typo."

"If that were true, why does he all but point it out to us?" With a sigh, Catherine shook her head. "No, Greg's right, it's a threat."

"I have to agree." Galetti added. "We'll extend the surveillance; instead of just one guy on each of you, we'll double it to two and we won't be subtle about it either - I want this bastard to know that you're being protected; if he wants to get to you, he's going to have to get through us first."

Stepping up to the screen, Warrick frowned at the sender's return address. "Well, his email address is well named - jtr88 at rocketmail dot com." Turning back, he looked hopefully towards Archie. "Any chance that we could get something from that?"

"I doubt it." Archie shook his head. "I've already tried sending a message back and it bounced." He shrugged. "Ten to one says he opened the account using a fictitious name, sent the message and then closed it again straight after; there's no ID verification with these free providers so we'd probably get nothing useful from them even if we tried."

"Okay..." Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from his lover, Grissom took a calming breath and attempted to regroup. "Let's not get too carried away for the moment, okay; this guy's not scheduled to make a move until next Sunday and there's nothing in this message to indicate otherwise so I think the best thing we can do is carry on as normal." Holding the two assignment slips out, he looked around his team. "You want to handle this for me, Cath?" He waited for her to take them before addressing the rest of the team. "You can decide amongst yourselves who does what just remember that no one works alone and you're to keep an eye on each other at all times. You all got that?"

"We've got it, Griss; don't worry." Stepping forward, Nick spoke for all of them as he linked his arm with Sara's. "No one's going to take any chances."

"Just make sure you don't." Expression softening, Grissom tipped his head towards the door. "Now go on, shift started ten minutes ago."

Shifting in his chair, he followed their progress along the glass-lined corridor, his attention riveted on the tall brunette until, as one, the small group turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Turning back, he was met with the questioning gaze of Jim Brass.

"You really think she's his next target?"

"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Slumping in his seat, Grissom shrugged. "I imagine he has her lined up as the first of next Sunday's victims."

"That's right, the double murder." Leaning back against the nearest workbench, Jim ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. "With all the excitement tonight, I forgot that was going to be a twofer."

"Well, it won't be a double in the traditional sense; if he's truly following the original Ripper there should be about an hour or so between killings." Closing his eyes, Grissom sighed. "And, as if Sara being the first victim isn't bad enough, I'm pretty sure I know who the second one will be too."

"You do?" Moving to stand next to Brass, Galetti frowned. "How could you know that?"

"Because I spent most of this afternoon brushing up on my Whitechapel history." Eyes opening, Grissom stared at both men. "And, having done that, I have absolutely no doubt that the second target on his list is Catherine."

TBC

**A/N:** The "Eight Little Whores" verse first saw the light of day in the book "The Identity of Jack the Ripper', written in 1959 by Donald McCormick who was long considered to be one of the leading theorists on the Whitechapel murders. It has since been proven, and McCormick himself even admitted before his death, that most of the so-called 'evidence' discussed in that book had, in fact, been faked and that includes, as 'our' Jack points out, that particular verse.


	38. Chapter 38

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 38**

"Should we actually be doing this?" Jockeying the Taurus through the throng of late night traffic, Jim frowned. "I mean, we're both supposed to be hands-off, remember?"

"And, ordinarily, we would be." Not bothering to look up from the print-out on his lap, Grissom shrugged. "But Catherine and Warrick are busy in Henderson and Sara, Nick and Greg have their hands full with that liquor store hold-up and I am not prepared to compromise anyone's safety by splitting them up for the sake of a five minute print job."

"Even though both Cath and Sara now have a couple of goons watching their every move?"

"Even then." Glancing across, Grissom caught the somewhat dubious expression on his old friend's face and sighed. "Relax, Galetti knows what we're doing and he doesn't have a problem with it plus I spoke to Vega when I called him with the location of the source computer; he's going to meet us there, supervise the processing and take immediate custody of the evidence – if we actually manage to find any this time, that is."

"It has been a bit thin in the ground, hasn't it?" Seeing the traffic lights up ahead turn red, Jim allowed the sedan to cruise to a halt and watched as the two black SUVs that were tailing them did the same. "We've got to catch a break sometime though and I've got a feeling that tonight's the night." He turned his attention back towards his passenger only to find him, once again, immersed in the email. "You do know that no matter how times you read that thing the content is going to stay the same, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do but I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something." Grissom gnawed on his bottom lip as he studied the killer's message. "Something in here is ringing a bell but I'm damned if I can work out what it is"

"Well, when that kind of thing happens to me, I've always found that the worst thing I can do is try and push it." Jim completed the turn onto Rainbow Boulevard before nodding down at the sheet of paper. "You've been pouring over that since it first came in; why don't you put it away for a while and see if that helps."

"Yeah, I think I will." Demonstrating more than a hint of frustration, Grissom roughly folded the paper and pushed it into his jacket pocket. "The damn thing's driving me around the bend anyway."

"So..." Hoping to take his friend's mind off the email for a while, Jim decided to dig a little further into his latest theory. "Catherine Eddowes was the original Ripper's sixth victim?"

"That's right; she was the second victim that they found on September 30th 1888." Still distracted, Grissom reeled the information off automatically. "She was found in the street with her throat cut, her abdomen torn open and one kidney and most of her uterus missing.

A month and a half after her murder, the chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee received a box from someone claiming to be the killer which contained half a preserved kidney that, according to the accompanying letter, belonged to Eddowes. "

"Wonder what he did what the other half."

"Apparently, he fried and ate it." Grissom shrugged. "Well, that's what the letter writer claimed anyway."

"Shades of Hannibal Lecter." Jim commented dryly. "So you really think our killer's going to come after Catherine because of her name?"

"Not just because of that but, yeah, I do." Grissom admitted. "Our guy's already shown us that he likes to play word games; he took what should be an innocuous word from a fifty year old verse and turned it into a threat against Sara - I can't really see him being able to resist the opportunity to emulate Catherine Eddowes murder by substituting her with someone named Catherine Willows."

"I can see that it might be a temptation." Brass agreed. "But, you said 'not just because of that' though so what else is there?"

"There are their ages for a start; our Catherine is exactly the same age as Eddowes was at the time of her death _plus_ there's her association with me to take into account as well." At Jim's quick sideways frown, Grissom continued. "I spent most of yesterday reviewing every aspect of this case and the more I read the more convinced I became that this whole thing is personal."

"Well, it certainly turned personal." Swinging the Taurus to the right, Jim turned onto Lone Mountain Road. "If the attack in the garage wasn't enough to convince you then the brake tampering should have been."

"Yeah, but I don't think turned is the right word; I think it's been personal from the start." Grissom admitted. "What better way to get my attention than to replicate the work of the world's first and probably most famous serial killer?"

"And then when he got you attention-"

"The real game began." Grissom finished. "Why attack me and not kill me?"

Brass allowed himself a small chuckle. "I hate to tell you, Gil but after seeing you in the ER that night, I'd have to say that he gave it his best shot."

"No he didn't." Grissom shook his head in disagreement. "He fractured my skull but nowhere near as badly as he could have, he sliced me open but barely touched the abdominal muscles and then he nailed me in place and started up the Mustang but he'd have to have known someone was going to come out there sooner rather than later – shift was starting."

"Well, what about the Mercedes then?" Brass queried. "You can't tell me that wasn't an attempt on your life."

"I can actually." Grissom told him. "He knows who I am, he knows what I do, he also knows who I live with so surely he'd have to know that both Sara and I took advanced _and_ defensive driving courses as part of our training. We did have a couple of hairy moments that day but not for a minute did I actually think that we wouldn't walk away from that ride."

So, if they weren't serious attempts on your life what are we talking about here?" Jim asked. "Nuisance value?"

"That's as good a description as any." Grissom shrugged. "I think what he's been doing up to now is basically toying with me but I also think that game's over now and, from here on out, he means business."

"What happened to Ellie was not a game." Jim stated, his voice tight.

"No, it wasn't and I certainly didn't mean it to sound as though it was." Grissom hurried to reassure his friend. "But that's something else I've been thinking about too; he said in the postscript that she'd become a distraction that had to be taken care of..." He paused for a moment to gauge Jim's reaction but, when none was forthcoming, he continued. "What I'm wondering now is, did he mean she was a distraction for him or that he thought she was distracting me?"

Mulling it over, Jim sighed. "Well, I know you said that you were leaving it all in the hands of your lawyer and that you weren't going to let it interfere with your work but that whole paternity thing was such a mess that I don't think anyone believed it wasn't on your mind at least some of the time." Seeing the large neon sign for the Kingsgate Casino up ahead, Brass moved the sedan into the right-hand exit lane and, glancing back in his rearview mirror, watched as the two SUVs followed his lead. "So, Ellie may have lied when she said she saw him?"

"I don't know." Grissom admitted. "I have no doubt she was there that night but we'll probably never know for sure whether she did see something or that was just something she said to get me to meet with her." He glanced across. "I am convinced of one thing though and that's that our killer would not like competition."

"And that's exactly what he may have seen Ellie as being." Jim concluded as he steered the Ford through the large complex's elaborately landscaped car park. Realizing that the three vehicle caravan he was currently heading would take up almost all of the casino's driveway, he made a quick left into the nearest lot and swung wide into the middle bay and, within seconds, found his car flanked on both sides by the large black Suburbans. "Well, Galetti wasn't lying when he said subtlety had gone out the window." He commented as he watched both agent's alight from their vehicles and scan the immediate area for possible threats. "I guess there's no one's safer in the whole of Vegas than the two of us right now, huh?"

"I hope to hell there is." Undoing his seatbelt, Grissom allowed it to retract back into its housing as he too kept an eye on their bodyguards. "I'm pretty sure my days as a target are over..." He paused. "Well, for now anyway." Turning, he looked at Brass. "The only thing that's important to me now is getting Sara and Catherine through next weekend"

Picking up on the note of trepidation in his friend's voice, Jim attempted to reassure him.

"We'll get then through, don't worry." Reached into the back seat, he grabbed Grissom's kit. "In fact, I'm going to make it my personal responsibility to make sure that both of them stay safe." Pulling the flight case through to the front, he reached for the door handle. "I promise you, Gil; the bastard won't even get close."

"If only it were that simple." With a rueful sigh, Grissom stared through the windscreen to the busy casino beyond. "But, unfortunately, I have a feeling that it won't be."

"Okay then, how about this?" Jim tried again. "I'll take them somewhere he can't get them." Confident that he now had the answer, he smiled. "I'll take them out of town."

* * *

"And this is definitely the computer that he used?" Standing before the six desktop terminals that were housed in the Kingsgate's business center, Grissom nodded towards the one closest to the door.

"That's what the desk clerk said." Flipping open his notebook, Sam Vega read through the initial statement he'd only just finished taking. "Apparently, he presented himself at the desk and told her that he needed to send an urgent email; she knew he wasn't staying here but had noticed him earlier in the bar area and assumed he was visiting someone in the hotel on business." Glancing up, he shrugged. "Allowing non-guests into this place seems to be a discretionary thing - if the person looks decent enough and the room isn't being used then it's up to the individual employee and, according to her, our guy was well-dressed, polite and even offered to pay for the use of the facilities so she gave him the go-ahead."

"I hope you managed to get a slightly more useful description out of her than that, Sam." Jim stated as he placed the silver case down to the side of the workstation.

"Of course I did." Vega checked his notes again. "White male, aged forty-five to fifty with brown hair and grey eyes; the clerk pegs him at an inch or so short of six foot and says he's wearing a white on white striped business shirt, navy blue pants and a burgundy tie. She didn't remember seeing him with a jacket but she did notice that everything looked brand new; she said she could still see the folds in the shirt from when it came out the packet."

"Observant girl." Grissom commented as he bent to take a closer look at the monitor and keyboard. "She escorted him in here?"

"Had to open it up for him." Vega answered. "The door's left unlocked during the day but you need a key to get in after nine p.m."

"How long was he in here?"

"A rough estimate is ten to fifteen minutes; she was in the middle of checking in a couple of guests when he gave her a wave and headed for the exit." Sam shrugged. "As soon as she'd finished, she came back here, checked that everything was as it should be and locked the place up again and she swears no one's been in the room since."

"How about cameras?" Turning, Brass scanned the rest of the room. "Do we have security in here?"

"Yes, we do." Vega confirmed, pointing up to the small black lens that was only just discernible in the corner. "The night manager's pulling the footage for us now. He offered to print off a still picture of the guy too while he was at it so I told him to go ahead; figured it'd be nice to actually see what Jack the Ripper looks like after all this time."

"I wouldn't get too excited if I were you." Grissom told him as he opened up his kit. "I really doubt our killer's going to put himself on display like that; I imagine the man on the video will turn out to be someone he's paid to come in here and send that email but if we can find _him_, he might just be able to lead us back to his employer." Removing a jar of print powder from his case, Grissom held it out towards Brass. "Want to open that up for me, Jim?"

There was a sharp rap on the door and, reaching across, Vega opened it to find the hotel's night manager standing nervously between the FBI agents who'd positioned themselves on either side of the room's only entry and exit.

"Here you go, Detective." Raising his hand, he proffered both a computer disk and a manila envelope. "That's the best I can do." He glanced warily towards the two silent sentries as Vega took custody of the items. "I've run off a complete copy of the time he spent in here plus the footage we had of him from the foyer and the bar. I'm not sure how helpful it'll be though; the guy spent most of his time with either his head down or his back to the camera but I did manage to one decent print of him." He nodded towards the envelope. "Like I said, it's the best I can do."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Mr. Copeland." Vega offered the man a reassuring smile as he passed the envelope over to Jim. "If there's anything else we need, I'll let you know."

"There is something actually." Taking the now-opened jar back from Jim, Grissom addressed the manager. "When was the last time this room was cleaned?"

"Uh..." The manager paused a moment to think. "It would have been around half past eight this evening; housekeeping always gives it the once over before it's locked up for the night."

"And no one was in here between then and the time that our suspect used the room?"

"No." He shook his head firmly "I checked with both the concierge and the other desk clerk and no one else has been inside this room tonight."

"Good." Placing the jar down carefully on the desktop, Grissom smiled. "I'm going to do the initial processing of the computer here but I'd like your permission to take it back to the lab with me after I'm done; I'd like our A/V specialist to go over it to see if the guy took any side trips while he was online."

"That's fine." Copeland didn't hesitate. "As I already told Detective Vega – we want to help in whatever way it can." With a discreet glance at his watch, he edged back towards the open doorway. "If that's all gentlemen, I really need to get back to work."

Brass had the envelope open before the door had even closed.

"Well?" Grissom asked.

"It's was taken from the camera in here." Jim told him. 'Grainy as all hell but it is clear enough to confirm the clerk's description." He looked up and nodded towards the computer. "It also confirms that he _was_ at that terminal too."

"That's just what I wanted to hear." Returning to his kit, Grissom rummaged for a swab. "I've got what looks like a small blood smear on the edge of the keyboard." He moistened the swab with sterile water before swiping it across the stain and adding a drop of phenolphthalein then looked up with a smile as the swab turned pink. "Bingo."

"You can't be sure it's his though." Vega commented as he watched Grissom slip the swab back into its protective box and label it for later processing.

"No, I can't." Grissom agreed as he handed it across into the detective's custody. "But, if the folks from housekeeping are doing their jobs right then there's a good chance that it is." Turning back to the desk, he gestured towards the computer. "I'll just dust this thing for prints and then the two of you can give me a hand to pack it up."

Less than ten minutes later, he stood back with a satisfied smile. "Well, the monitor and the casing may be spotless but I can't say the same about the mouse." The smile turned into a grin as he held up two plastic covered print cards. "I'll have Mandy run them through AFIS as soon as we get back and, with some luck, we'll have a name by daybreak."

"Okay..." Shrugging out of his jacket, Jim tossed it carelessly onto the nearest chair and began to roll up his shirt sleeves. "Let's get this thing packed up and back to the lab then."

Showing slightly more regard for his clothing than Brass had demonstrated, Vega was in the process of folding his jacket neatly over the back of the chair when his cell phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the screen then flipped it open.

"Vega." He was silent for a moment as he listened to the caller.

"When?" Eyes widening slightly, he held up a finger in an effort to capture his companion's attention.

"Where?" As both men looked his way, he waved dismissively at the computer behind them.

"Okay, we'll be there as soon as we can."

Jabbing his finger at the end key, he snapped the handset closed and shoved it back into his pocket as he reached across for his jacket.

"Forget the computer; we'll send someone else to pick it up." Slipping his arms into the sleeves, he shrugged it back on. "We're needed at another scene."

"What?" Surprised by the news, Grissom frowned. "I'm not supposed to be working this one, remember; never mind any others."

"Well, you definitely won't be working it but I am pretty sure you're going to want to see it." Vega told them as he quickly searched his pockets for his keys. "That was dispatch; a body's been found two blocks from here and, according to the uniforms on the scene, the victim is a white male in his late forties wearing a white shirt, blue pants and a burgundy colored tie."

TBC


	39. Chapter 39

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 39**

"You look like..." Standing beside the wooden workbench, Greg tried desperately to come up with a polite description before opting to go with the first one that had come to mind. "...shit."

"Actually, I feel like it." Setting his kit down inside the open doorway of the old garage, Grissom managed a tired smile. "The only thing worse than spending most of the night working a crime scene is spending most of the night watching someone else do it for you."

"Yeah, we heard about that." Leaning sideways, the younger CSI looked out to the parking lot beyond. "Brass isn't with you?"

"No, he said he had some things he needed to take care of back at his office." As his cell phone rang, Grissom automatically pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen and then sent the call to voicemail. "But I think he really just wanted to be there when today's missing children alerts go out." He shrugged. "His theory seems to be that if he drives every law enforcement agency in the country nuts with them, they'll go out and find Caleb just to shut him up." Glancing around the interior of the large building, one eyebrow rose in question. "Your friend didn't turn up this morning?"

"He did actually." Turning his back on the auto parts catalog he'd been studying, Greg offered his boss a sheepish smile. "The problem is that I forgot that I'm due in court this morning. I really meant to tell him yesterday that we wouldn't be able to get much time in here today but I guess it slipped my mind."

"Oh, well." Secretly relieved, Grissom stifled a yawn. "I suppose I'll meet him some other time."

"If you don't mind hanging around a bit longer, he should be back any minute." Greg glanced quickly at his watch. "Since we won't have time to hit the diner, he offered to go out and get us some breakfast instead." He gestured back over his shoulder towards the workbench. "I thought we could sit down and work out a schedule for the rest of the work while we eat."

"Looking at the car now, there shouldn't be too much scheduling involved." Grissom commented as he ran his eyes over the vehicle. "You've done wonders out here, Greg."

"Well, like I said, I couldn't have done it alone." Embarrassed by the praise, Greg blushed. "In fact,-"

He was cut off as Grissom's phone rang again and he watched in amusement as his boss, once more, checked the screen, refused the call and returned the handset to his pocket.

"Let me guess." Knowing he'd never be able to hide the grin that was threatening to burst forth, Greg didn't even try. "You're hiding from Catherine, right?"

"She's been calling me every five minutes for over an hour now." Grissom rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I couldn't really speak to her while I was out at the scene so I had Jim give her a call and say that I'd see her when I got back to the lab but, by the looks of things, she's not feeling particularly patient today."

"She's been in kind of a mood ever since she got back from Henderson." Greg informed him. "According to Warrick, she wasn't all that pleased when two FBI heavies turned up at their crime scene and informed her that she now had a couple of 24/7 watchdogs and I think it just got worse when she found out about the new victim."

"Yeah, I probably should have called her about that." Grissom shrugged. "But it's too late now."

"Hey dude." Stepping in through the door, Ross Martin's head was down as he studied the two paper take-out bags in his hands. "I couldn't decide on the breakfast burrito or the steak and egg quesadilla so I got one of both." Holding both bags up, he grinned. "What one do you want?"

"Either'll do me." Greg told him as he cocked his head in Grissom's direction. "Ross, this is Gil Grissom."

It took the mechanic a moment to recognize the name.

"Oh right, you're the guy who owns the 'Stang." Quickly handing the bags off to Greg, he stepped across and held out a somewhat oil-stained hand in Grissom's direction and waited for him to take it. "It's good to finally see you out here, man." Pumping his hand up and down, Ross smiled nervously. "Greg filled me in on everything that's been going on around here and, I gotta say, it's good to see you up and about." Still hanging onto Grissom's hand, he gestured blindly over his shoulder. "And I want to thank you for letting me help you guys out with the car; it's been great to get my hands dirty again."

"Actually, I think I'm the one who should be thanking you." Pulling his hand back, Grissom surreptitiously wiped it on his pants leg as he held up his splinted left hand. "After all, it's not like I'd be much use at the moment and, without your help, Greg wouldn't have managed to get nearly as much done as he has." Wanting to put the other man at ease, he stepped over to the Mustang's side. "So, how's she going?"

"Good." Falling in beside him, Ross nodded enthusiastically. "Greg's been concentrating on the bodywork while I've been handling most of the mechanical and, so far, it's all been a breeze." He shrugged. "The engine and transmission need a couple of minor tweaks but I'll get them sorted out as soon as I've got the new exhaust system fitted."

"And, I've been all over her and found almost no new rust." Greg added. 'So, all I really had to do was sand the panels smooth." He gave the big car's front fender an affectionate pat. "We've completely stripped the interior and I've managed to find someone to redo the upholstery so that's all under control so, if everything goes according to plan, we can probably book her in for a new paint job in the next week or two."

"That soon?" Grissom couldn't hide his surprise.

"Hey, most renos start off with a rusting hulk that you pretty much have to rebuild from scratch but this little beauty was in great shape to start with." Leaning forward slightly, Ross looked down onto the large V8 engine. "Apart from the solenoid, that is." Glancing up again, he shrugged. "That thing's cactus, man; it's really got to go."

"It was supposed to go over twenty years ago." Grissom told him with an easy smile. "_And_ we had its replacement too." He frowned as a hazy memory began to take shape. "Elaine has it or, at least, I think she does; I vaguely remember asking her about it but ..." Unable to clarify the picture any further, he shook his head. "I have no idea whether she got back to me or not."

"No prizes for guessing when that was then." Greg commented dryly, his mouth quirking up in a quick grin.

"I'll drop by her place later in the week and see if it's still hanging about somewhere." Grissom continued. "John was one of those people who never threw things away so I imagine it is; it'll just be a matter of finding it."

"I can do that for you if you'd like." Ross offered affably "My folks took off for Palm Springs yesterday and I promised to swing by and check on their place every couple of days or so; Mrs. Grogan lives in the same street and it'd only take me five minutes to stop and ask her."

"You sure?" Grissom queried. "You're already doing enough here as it is; I'd hate to put you to any more trouble."

"What trouble?" Ross chuckled. "She's lives, like, three houses away; I'll just check her driveway when I go past and, if her car's there, I'll walk down and knock on her door. Me and Mrs. G got on like a house on fire when I did that work for her; she's not going to mind."

"Well..." Grissom conceded. "It would save me trip."

"I can't make it out there today." Looking from one man to the other, Ross shrugged. "I've got to go see a guy who has a workshop down on Industrial; I spoke to him on the phone on Friday and he said he might be able to give me some work." Although he was obviously trying for nonchalance, it was clear that the young man was pinning his hopes on the possibility of a return to the work he loved "It's only a small place and the job would be part-time to start with but it's better than nothing, right?"

"Definitely better than nothing and I really hope you get it." Extending his hand, Grissom waited for the other man to shake. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Ross; I appreciate everything you're doing for us."

"No problem, man." With a companionable nod, Ross smiled. "I'm having a ball."

"Okay then." Stepping back slightly, Grissom gestured towards the two paper bags on the workbench. "I'll let you two have your breakfast."

Moving over to the door, he'd just bent to retrieve his case when he sensed a presence in the open doorway and looked up to find Catherine standing before him.

"Well, well, well." With both hands planted on her hips and her right foot tapping impatiently on the cement floor, she directed a decidedly frosty glare at her stooped friend and coworker. "It's about time you showed your face."

* * *

"Oh no!" With her mouth set and eyes blazing, she glared across the desk. "No way!"

"Come on Cath, be reasonable; it's not like I'm suggesting you enter the witness protection program." Grissom sighed heavily as he prepared for what he guessed was going to be a protracted battle. "Jim and I talked this whole thing through with Harris and Galetti and everyone agrees that it's the safest way to do this."

"_Everyone_ was not consulted.' Catherine pointed out needlessly. "I certainly wasn't." Shaking her head, her lips curled into a derisive sneer. "Mind you, I wasn't consulted about bringing in Sheehan and Langford to work tonight's scene either so, obviously, my opinion doesn't mean much to anyone anyway."

"You were busy, Catherine and so was everyone else from Grave." Darting a quick glance over towards the sofa, he saw Sara avidly following every word. "I was the only one free and, since I could hardly work it myself, I made the decision to bring the others in."

"But it's not Dayshift's case." Catherine pointed out pedantically.

"No, it's not but we are all working for the same side, remember? Look, I was there the whole time and so were Jim and Galetti." Grissom shrugged. "Sheehan may have worked the scene but he did it under our supervision and, as such, the case belongs to us."

"Well I suppose that's something anyway." Catherine reluctantly conceded as she fell into the nearest empty seat. "But it doesn't change the fact that I will not be leaving town next weekend; I have a teenage daughter and a mother to consider and there is no way I'm leaving them home alone while I high-tail it to safety."

"And we wouldn't expect you to either." Grissom assured her. "I don't really think our guy would try and have a go at you at your house but, just on the off chance, I thought we could move Lindsey and Lily into a hotel for the night; they'll be perfectly safe there and Paul's promised to station a couple of agents outside the door as an added precaution. I promise you, Cath; absolutely nothing will happen to either of them."

"If you're so confident why don't I get that option then?" Turning slightly, she nodded towards the sofa. "And Sara too; I'm sure she doesn't want to skip town any more than I do."

"Because to protect the two of you properly, we need to have you somewhere that can be completely contained by people we trust and there's just no way we'd be able to make that work in a hotel here in town." He shrugged artlessly. "An old friend of Jim's has a cabin just outside of Beatty and -"

"Beatty!" Catherine exclaimed. "That's over two hours from here."

"And it's ideal for our purposes." Grissom continued. "It's miles away from anywhere, bordered by a river on one side and almost perfectly flat desert on the others; according to Jim, you can see someone coming your way for miles so there's no chance of an ambush. It's probably the safest we can make you."

"I don't agree." Pushing to her feet, Catherine shook her head determinedly. "There has to be another way; I'm already being followed around by a couple of FBI gorillas, surely that should be enough." Stepping backwards towards the door, she allowed her tone to soften a little. "I can see the logic in both your theory and your plan, Gil but..." Both shoulders rose in a helpless shrug. "I just can't be that far away." She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry: you'll just have to come up with something else."

Watching her disappear down the corridor, Grissom gnawed on his lip as his mind whirred; he hadn't handled the explanation well, he knew that, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why she was being so stubborn. Running his fingers through his hair, he absently fingered the still tender scar that radiated out from behind his ear as he heaved a deep sigh and turned towards Sara.

"I suppose you're going to argue with me too."

I don't think I really need to." With a soft smile, she moved across to the chair Catherine had just vacated. "After all, I'd only be repeating a lot of what Cath just said."

"It would be for your own good, Sara." He pointed out. "And her's too; I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

"And you think we do?" Sara asked rhetorically, her eyes locking with his. "Look, I can see the sense in stepping up our security on the night but I can't help thinking that smuggling us out to Beatty is a bit extreme." Looking away again, she took in the large, glass-walled office. "Why can't we just hole up here for the night or even stay at our place? Galetti's already got people watching the building and between them and the guys who're assigned to guard us individually, we'd have to be safe."

"I did suggest that but Paul ruled it out." Grissom shook his head. "Watching a six storey building and locking it down are two completely different things and we just don't have the manpower to pull it off; same goes for the lab apparently, there's too many people with access to the place."

"I guess we'd better put our thinking caps on then, hadn't we?" Deciding a slight change of subject was in order, Sara relaxed back in her seat. "How did your scene go?"

"Well, the victim was definitely the same guy who sent me the email and, by the looks of things, he was probably killed by whoever it was that paid him to do it." Pulling Sheehan's preliminary report towards him, Grissom quickly scanned the information that had already been collected. "His name was Richard Hart, we got hits on both AFIS and CODIS to confirm that, but he was actually identified by one of the uniforms who attended the scene; apparently he's been living on the streets for years now. The story the cop heard was that he used to be an IT specialist with a big law firm out in Pennsylvania but first he hit the bottle and then he hit the skids. He ended up coming to Vegas for whatever reason and, although he'd managed to get some control over his drinking, he'd still go off on benders from time to time. The funny thing is, according to the officer, Hart was pretty territorial; he always set up camp on the same patch of ground out by the airport and never ventured far from it but tonight he was all the way up in North Vegas."

"Someone must have paid him pretty well to get him to leave his home to play decoy." Sara suggested.

"They tidied him up, got him a haircut and shave and bought him a new outfit so he could act the part too." Grissom told her. "Now we're hoping we might be able to find out where all of that happened; Vega's going to hit the streets later today to check all the menswear stores and barbers in the area." Pulling his glasses off, Grissom rubbed his eyes. "Maybe if we're lucky, somebody saw them together."

"Tired?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Glancing across, he smiled wearily. "It's been a really long night."

"Well, I guess now you know why your doctor wanted you to take things easy, don't you?" Pushing to her feet, Sara grinned. "Come on; I think it's time the two of us went home."

He was in the process of tidying his desk when the idea struck. "Hey, I think I've just worked out where you and Catherine can go next Sunday night." Looking up, he offered her a satisfied smile. "It's not too big, it's in a quiet area that should be relatively easy to contain and –"

Curiosity piqued, Sara cocked her head in interest. "Where?"

"Elaine's." Grissom answered simply. "She and Cath get on well and you like her, right?" His smile widened at her answering nod. "_And_ she does keep saying that if there's anything we need, we only have to ask."

"It's a pretty big ask though." Sara pointed out. "She may not want to take the chance; I mean, if anything were to go wrong, she'd be in danger too."

"Nothing's going to go wrong." Grissom told her with conviction. "And Elaine was a cop's wife for over thirty years; she knows what's what and she knows how to handle herself - John made sure of that."

"Well..." Although still a little doubtful, Sara had to admit the prospect of a night at Elaine's was infinitely better than one spent over a hundred and twenty miles away. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to run it by her; the worst she can do is say no."

"She won't say no." Confident that he'd found a solution to the impasse, Grissom grinned happily. "Trust me, honey; if I know Elaine, she's going to jump at the chance."

* * *

She wasn't sure what had woken her.

Lying on her back, Elaine Grogan blinked myopically up at the vivid white ceiling of her bedroom as she tried, unsuccessfully, to work out what it had been that had catapulted her out of her deep, dream-filled slumber. She lay perfectly still as she concentrated on the familiar sounds of both the house and the street beyond but neither gave her any clue and, putting it down to her somewhat erratic sleep patterns of late, she rolled onto her side to check the clock. She had to read it twice before it truly sank in.

Ten fifteen a.m.

With a groan of dismay, she pushed herself up and around and then, seated on the side of her bed, rubbed her hands across her face as her mouth opened in a wide yawn. Allowing her fingers to trail down beneath her jaw, she winced as she gently palpated the tender, swollen lymph glands in her neck then, with a sigh of weary acceptance, she pushed to her feet, slipped her bathrobe around her shoulders and made her way towards the kitchen.

Deciding against making a full pot of coffee, she pulled her favorite mug and a jar of instant from the pantry before filling the kettle at the sink and switching it on to boil then reached up to the top cupboard and, one by one, brought down each of the small clear plastic vials that had become her lifeline. Placing the final one on the bench before her, Elaine started as the house phone rang, its strident trill seeming unnaturally loud in the almost deathly quiet of the small three bedroom house. Hearing a faint click followed by silence, she realized the answering machine had picked up the call and was about to begin her morning regime when another, more ominous, sound came from somewhere off to her right.

With a frown, she turned quickly towards the small mud room and the securely locked door that led through to the garage. The noise she'd heard had definitely been the heavy trundling sound the large metal door made when it was being manually lifted and, listening intently, Elaine was sure that she could just make out the sharp clip of hard-soled shoes on concrete.

Fatigue forgotten, she all but ran to the front of the house and peered out through the window that faced the street; the garage itself was hidden from view but, from what she could see, her car was the only one in the driveway and there was no sign of any unfamiliar vehicles in the quiet street beyond. She briefly considered dialing 911 but four years of self-reliance quickly put paid to that idea – given the evidence, it was probably some local kids out looking for trouble and a long career in the education system meant she was more than capable of dealing with a couple of recalcitrant children.

With her nerves still slightly on edge, and all too aware that she wasn't exactly dressed for a confrontation, she decided that a little back up might be in order and quickly made her way back to the kitchen. Standing at the counter, she briefly contemplated the large wooden knife block and its all-too lethal contents before, with a brisk shake of her head, she pulled open a drawer and rummaged quickly through its contents; extracting a medium sized wrench, she hefted it once or twice, testing both its weight and her grip, before deciding it would do. She seriously doubted she'd need it but it would be security if nothing else _and_ far safer for both sides than going in armed with a knife.

Padding quietly across the cold, slate floor, she paused beside the internal door and listened for noises on the other side; the sound of footsteps was much more distinct now and, Elaine relaxed a little more as she realized she was only hearing one set. Deciding that her weapon would only be used as a last resort, she slid it into the right-hand pocket of her robe and then reached out, turned the doorknob and peeked out into the garage beyond.

He was standing with his back to her just a few short feet away.

"Ross?" Throwing the door wide, Elaine stared at confusion at her intruder. "What on Earth do you think you're doing?"

"Oh hey, Mrs. G." Spinning quickly at the unexpected voice, Ross Martin smiled ingenuously at the woman before him. "I thought you must have gone out."

"Out?" Taken aback by the young man's nonchalance, Elaine could only stare.

"Yeah, I knocked on the door a couple of times but no one answered and when I tried giving you a call, the answering machine picked up so I figured you weren't here." Turning from her, he nodded towards the open doorway and the red Sentra that sat just outside. "Your car was still here though so I figured you couldn't have gone far."

"So you thought you'd take the opportunity to... what?" As her adrenalin levels started to fall, annoyance set in and Elaine frowned. "Come in and see what you could find? That's not something I would have expected from you, Ross."

"No, Mrs. G, you've got it all wrong." Sensing her displeasure, he hurried to explain himself. "You know I've been helping out with that old Mustang, right? Well, I was talking to the guy you gave it to this morning and he said that he thought you had the spare solenoid in here somewhere; we're going to need it in the next couple of days and, with my folks away, I knew I was going to be over here a lot this week so I said I'd drop by and ask you about it." He held both hands up in supplication as he pled his case. "I told him I wouldn't be able to get around to it for a day or two but the guy I was supposed to go and see about a job this morning was called out on a tow and told me to come back tomorrow so I figured I'd come here and see you today." He paused for a moment hoping desperately that she believed in his sincerity; Elaine had been his parent's neighbor for over four years now and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize a friendship. "I promise you, I normally wouldn't have come in here without your permission but I remembered you had a pile of boxes with his name on them stacked up out here and I just thought I'd check and see if it was in one of them."

"Gil's taken all of the boxes, Ross." Elaine told him, her disappointment and impatience clearly on show. "He took them when he took he took the car."

"No he didn't." Turning back to the array of cardboard he's been busy studying, Ross pointed towards the floor. "Look, there are two small ones down the bottom there."

"I though I'd checked all of them." Stepping in beside him, Elaine bent slightly as she squinted to read the name printed in small capitals on the two cartons. "But, obviously I didn't." Straightening up again, she sighed. "Well, I don't have the time or energy to move them all just now, Ross so you're going to have to come back later; we'll get them out then and see if it's what you're after."

"I can move 'em." Stepping forward, he grabbed hold of a sizeable carton and lifted it and the two that sat upon it down onto the floor by his side. "There's no need for you to do it, Mrs. G." Turning back, he lifted the next group of three. "I'll just pile them up here and then put them all-"

"No!"

The forceful exclamation surprised him and Ross halted mid-turn, the trio of cartons teetering slightly as the sudden stop caused a shift in their already precarious balance. Looking over, he was surprised even further by the look of barely suppressed rage that was now exhibited on the face of the previously friendly woman before him.

"Just stop it, Ross." Elaine's tone was almost bitterly cold as she kept her eyes glued to the topmost box. "I want you to put everything back where it was and then leave." Daring to look away from the load, she met his confused stare with a determined one of her own. "I told you I was not doing this just now and I meant it."

"Oh, jeez." Realizing that he had overstepped a mark but not quite sure what that mark was, Ross was desperate to put things right. "I'm sorry, Mrs. G; I guess I wasn't thinking." Turning quickly, he was just reaching out to replace the hastily grabbed cartons when his foot caught on the first set and the top box tumbled to the ground, the majority of its contents spilling out onto the hard cement floor.

"Oh, shit!" Not daring to look back, he shoved the remaining two boxes back where they'd come from and fell to his knees. "I'll get it, Mrs. G.; I'll sort it all out."

Pulling the upended box towards him, Ross quickly righted it and began scooping up the fallen items.

The nail gun was the closest to hand.

Lifting it up, he ran his hands over both sides feeling for cracks in the casing and, finding none, turned the tool around to examine the nose contact element and the trigger; both seemed fine and he allowed himself a silent sigh of relief as he slipped the heavy instrument back into the box.

A small zip-lock bag lay just to the right of his knee and, picking it up, Ross examined its contents through the clear plastic; the strange assortment of single earrings all seemed to be intact and, it too, was returned to the box.

The cell phone that landed two feet away was a different matter.

Pulling it towards himself, his stomach fell at the sight of the small handset's shattered screen and, turning slightly, he looked almost forlornly at the woman behind him.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. G." He held the cell out for her to see. "I'll replace it just as soon as I can."

"It's all right, Ross." All trace of her earlier anger gone, Elaine looked down at the damaged phone and sighed. "I don't need it anymore anyway."

"Are you sure?" Placing it down by his side, Ross quickly reached for the next item

"I'm positive." Stepping in a little closer, Elaine watched as he lifted up the antique straight razor and opened it up to check for damage. "Does anyone know that you're here, Ross?"

"Nope." Carefully running his finger along the side of the razor, he marveled at the sharpness of its blade. "Absolutely no one."

"I see." Raising her right hand up as high as she could, Elaine smiled for the first time since she awoke as she slammed the wrench down upon the unsuspecting man's skull.

TBC


	40. Chapter 40

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 40**

Easing the silver Chevy Impala in against the curb, Frank Harris shoved the transmission into park and killed the engine before turning to stare almost suspiciously at the two young men occupying the sedan's back seat.

"Okay, are you guys sure you know what to do?"

"Yes, sir." Fresh out of the FBI Academy and brought in especially to supplement the Vegas field office's own personnel, both Robert Orsini and José Acosta seemed way too green for Harris' liking but that didn't stop Acosta from meeting his superior's gaze with a confident one of his own. "We're to go door to door and explain to the resident's that we'll be conducting work on the storm drains in this area from four p.m. next Sunday until approximately eight a.m. the following morning."

"Right." Harris agreed with a terse nod. "I want you to do your best to hit every house in the street but the most important ones are those between Desert Ridge Avenue and Windsong Drive; those two cross-roads mark the boundaries of our containment area so the residences inside that area are the one's that'll be most affected by our presence."

"And what do we tell them, sir?" Reaching into the breast pocket of the blue chambray work shirt he'd been given to wear, Orsini extracted a Las Vegas City Council ID badge and lanyard and slipped it over his head.

"Tell them that we'll be bringing in supplemental lighting along with traffic control but we'll be doing our best to keep any disturbances to a minimum." Harris nodded towards the file folder that lay on the seat between the two men. "You've got flyers in there that should fill them in on anything else they need to know but you can give them one of those business cards we had printed up as well." He frowned. "You picked up plenty of them, right?"

"We've got more than enough, sir." Pulling one of the cards from his pocket, Acosta stared down at the Department of Public Works logo that now sat alongside Paul Galetti's name and a hastily arranged dummy phone number. "If anybody has any questions, we'll tell them to give Agent Galetti a call."

"I'd drop the word 'agent' if I were you." Harris advised, his eyes narrowing alarmingly as he glared at the two young men. "After all, the plan here is to get through this thing without anyone actually knowing what's going on, remember?"

"Yes sir; of course." Embarrassed by his slip, Acosta blushed. "I guess we better get going." With a plaintive, almost desperate, glance towards Orsini, he reached for the door handle.

"Hey, guys?" Seated in the front passenger seat, Grissom bit back a smile at the rookie's discomfiture as he swung around to address both men. "When you go to 1607 could you keep an eye out for a blue Honda Accord?"

"Problem?" Turning back towards the front, Harris frowned.

"Probably not." Grissom told him. "The guy that's been helping us out with the Mustang seems to have taken off somewhere without saying a word." He shrugged. "1607 is his parent's house and, I figured..." He cocked his thumb over his shoulder at the two young agents. "It wouldn't hurt for these guys to check and see if he's hanging out there."

"This is the same guy that was a suspect in your attack?"

"Yeah." Grissom confirmed. "He was cleared pretty much straight away and he and Greg have been working together ever since but we haven't heard from him in three days and, although I only met him the once, it just seems to a little out of character."

"He's not long out of the pen, right?" Harris shrugged. "Those guys aren't always the most reliable people to have around."

"Yeah, I have met a few in my time, you know." Grissom countered with an easy smile. "But Ross seemed pretty up-front to me; I really would have expected him to have, at least, given Greg a call."

"Okay then." Harris glanced back over his shoulder. "You two got that? We're looking for a blue Accord at 1607."

"Yes, sir." Anxious to make good, Acosta scribbled a reminder inside his folder. "And if someone's home when we call, should we ask them about his whereabouts?"

"Of course." His tone dripping with sarcasm, Harris darted a quick glance in Grissom's direction as he rolled his eyes at the question. "Because the Department of Public Works _always_ goes hunting for ex-cons." Turning, he heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh. "Just go boys, okay? Speak to some people, hand out some flyers and then come back here and tell us if you saw a blue Honda while you were at it."

It took the young agents just seconds to exit the sedan and, finally giving in to temptation, Grissom allowed himself a quick chuckle as both rear doors were slammed shut.

"Heaven help us." Keeping his eyes locked on the rearview mirror, Harris followed their hasty progress along the quiet tree-lined street. "If that's what they're spitting out of Quantico these days, the Bureau's in trouble."

"I'm sure they'll do just fine." Turning his attention to the front of the vehicle, Grissom smiled at the sight of the red Nissan hatchback parked in the driveway of 1613. "Well, Elaine's home anyway." Pushing his door open, he carefully extricated himself from the sedan. "Come on; I'll introduce you."

* * *

"So..." Stepping in out of the bright morning sun, Grissom scanned the almost empty space before him with interest. "You're finally getting your wish."

"To be able to park my car in my own garage?" With her back to the doorway, Elaine took a moment to school her features into a warm and welcoming smile before turning. "Yes, and it's about time too; my poor Sentra was only supposed to be out there for a week or two and, here we are, more than a month later and she's still at the mercy of the elements." Leaning the broom she'd been using against the edge of the workbench, she picked up a rag and dusted off her hands before tossing it back down. "How have you been, Gil?"

"I'm fine." Quickly brushing off the query, Grissom frowned with concern as she limped towards him. "More importantly, how's your back?"

"It's still giving me the odd twinge." Reaching around, Elaine placed her hand lightly against her lower spine. "But it's nowhere near as bad as it was yesterday or the day before." With a self-deprecating huff, she rolled her eyes. "Not that I can blame anyone but myself for it, mind you; you'd think I'd know better than to dig up an entire garden bed by myself." It was only as she neared the doorway that she saw Harris and her smile faltered slightly at the sight of the second man. "Oh, I thought you were alone."

"I'm not _allowed_ out alone at the moment, Elaine." Grissom chuckled. "I thought you knew that." Turning slightly, he gestured towards his companion. "This is Special Agent Frank Harris."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grogan." Stepping forward, Harris extended his hand towards her. "I hope you don't mind us coming round unannounced."

"No, not at all." Composure regained, Elaine took the proffered hand in a firm shake. "I take it you're the man in charge of ensuring everyone's safety next Sunday night."

"One of them, yes." Pulling his hand back, Harris nodded. "In fact, that's one of the reasons we're here today." He glanced briefly at Grissom before continuing. "We thought it only fair that we fill you in on our plans for that night and I'd also like to look around the place if you don't mind." Turning, he quickly scanned what was visible of the small front yard. "I need to check the security of your house as well as take at look at your perimeters so I can decide what other types of precautions we'll need to put in place."

"You're more than welcome to, Agent Harris but I can assure you that my home is completely secure; there are deadlocks on all the doors and windows and I also have motion-sensor lighting around the house itself." Her brow furrowing slightly, Elaine looked from one man to the other. "Surely that should suffice?"

"I'm sure it will, ma'am but I'll still need to check." With an apologetic shrug, Harris tried his best to reassure her. "I can't really sign off on it unless I've seen it for myself."

"It'll only take five minutes, Elaine." Grissom promised. "Frank just wants to make sure that everyone's going to be as safe as possible."

"Yes, yes of course." Realizing how defensive she'd sounded, Elaine quickly acquiesced; after all, what had at first appeared to be the hardest part of her plan had literally fallen into her lap just a few days ago and there was no way she was going to jeopardize it now. "I suppose I should have known you'd need to see it but..." Both shoulders quirked up into an apparently artless shrug. "I was under the impression that this whole thing was supposed to be low-key; I really wasn't expecting a full-scale FBI operation."

"Well, I don't think we'll be going to that extreme but we do need to make sure that everything's done properly." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Harris extracted one of the flyers and quickly unfolded it. "I've got a couple of guys delivering these to your neighbors as we speak and, as far as they're all concerned, the only thing going on in this street next weekend will be some night works on the storm drain system." Handing the flyer across, he pointed to the small map near the bottom that depicted the immediate area. "As you can see, we'll be blocking off the road at these two points and the agents who'll be doing traffic control will hold up any vehicles that want to get through long enough for us to run a check on them." Looking up from the leaflet, he offered her a reassuring smile. "If everything seems legit, we'll let them in and monitor their movement through the cordoned off area but, if they've got so much as a traffic ticket, we'll be detouring them around another way."

"So, you'll have a team right outside in the street?"

"Yes, that's right." Harris nodded. "The storm drain's in front of your neighbor's house but we've checked it all out and we'll have a perfect view of the front of yours."

"But now you need to see the rest." With a nod of understanding, Elaine gestured towards the partially opened interior door behind her. "Of course, Agent Harris; you can look round to your heart's content."

"Thank you, ma'am." After a quick nod of appreciation, he turned to address Grissom. "This'll only take me quarter an hour or so; is that enough time for you?"

"Should be." Raising his head slightly, Grissom sniffed the air. "Unless I'm very much mistaken there's some coffee brewing around here somewhere." Stepping forward with a smile, he held his crooked elbow out for Elaine to take. "So, how about we head inside too? There's something I need to ask you."

* * *

Standing beside the coffee maker, Elaine added just a dash of milk to one of the mugs in front of her before giving the liquid a vigorous stir. "You know, it used to amaze me how you'd always manage to turn up just after I'd made a fresh pot." Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled. "That's quite a talent you've got there, Gil."

"It used to amaze _me_ that you always seemed to have a fresh pot going twenty-four hours a day." Grissom countered settling himself at the small breakfast bar. "That's quite an addiction you've got there, Elaine."

"Touché" Lifting both mugs, she turned. "Although, I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be; back then I had a husband who seemed to live on the stuff and, unfortunately, he got me hooked too." Moving over to the counter, she placed the mugs down before sliding one across to him.

"I guess it really was a drug with him, wasn't it." Taking a quick sip, Grissom smiled. "Sara tends to have a similar problem; that's why, nowadays, she tries to stick to tea."

"Well, there are worse vices in the world, I suppose." Idly twirling the wedding band on her finger round and round, Elaine stared off into the distance and sighed. "And, God knows, we've all seen our share."

"Elaine?" Watching her closely, Grissom frowned; the pensive tone coupled with the faraway look was not at all like the woman he knew. "You okay?"

"What?" Startled out of her momentary reverie, Elaine gave her head a quick shake. "Yes, yes, I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "I've just been having some trouble sleeping lately."

"Your back?"

"Mostly." She admitted. "I've been taking Tylenol for it but sometimes it doesn't seem to help."

"You have seen a doctor, right?" Concern increasing, Grissom placed his mug back down as he studied her pale face. "I mean, you don't want to take any chances, Elaine; not with your back."

"Oh, it'll be fine." The sound of the front door opening and closing as Harris went about his inspection distracted them both and she took the opportunity to regroup. "Seriously Gil, it's nothing more than some pulled muscles; I'll be right as rain in a couple of days."

'Well, if you're sure." Not entirely convinced but unwilling to push it any further, Grissom grudgingly conceded defeat. "So, how'd you get rid of all the stuff in the garage?"

"Oh, that was simple." Raising her mug to her lips, Elaine took a deep pull of the hot liquid. "One of the UNLV groundsmen runs a small removal company on the side and I had him bring a van around and haul everything over to the storage unit for me. There's plenty of room now that the Mustang's no longer there so I figured I might as well use it for all of those boxes."

"Oh, before I forget..." Mention of the Ford reminded Grissom about the apparently AWOL mechanic. "You haven't seen Ross around, have you?"

"Ross Martin?" Elaine's forehead furrowed as she pretended to think "No, not this week." She shrugged. "His parents are away at the moment and, I suppose, he'll be looking after their place but I haven't seen him."

Movement in the backyard caught her eye and the breath caught in her throat as she saw Frank Harris come to a stop in front of the three raised garden beds that lined the small courtyard. She could hear Grissom speaking but never took in a word as she watched the FBI agent hop up onto the rocky edge of the nearest one and balance precariously as he leant forward over the tightly packed soil to peer into the neighboring yard. It was only when he jumped back down and turned to examine the rear of the house that she managed to breathe again.

"... and neither of us has heard from him since." Drawing his sentence to a close, Grissom smiled almost indulgently as he realized he'd lost his audience yet again. "Boy, you really do need to get some sleep, don't you?"

Pulling her attention away from the window, Elaine frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Never mind." Turning on his stool to see what it was that had distracted her, Grissom noticed the bare garden bed for the first time. "I guess that's where you hurt yourself."

"Yes, that's right." Watching Harris disappear back around the side of the house, she allowed herself to relax. "I had a couple of bougainvillea in there that just weren't doing well so I decided to dig them up and plant something else." Almost unconsciously, her hand slipped around to her back and she lightly massaged the tight, aching muscles as she remembered how hard that particular afternoon's work had been. "What I hadn't counted on though was just how securely those damn plants were in there."

"You should have given me a call." Draining the last of his coffee, Grissom pushed his mug out of the way. "I would have had one of the guys come around to give you a hand."

"Had I known I was going to throw my back out I might just have done that." Confident now that she'd passed inspection, Elaine offered him an easy smile. "But it's doesn't matter now; I've dug it all over and given it a healthy dose of fertilizer so it should be ready to plant up again just as soon as I feel up to the job." With a quick glance towards her kitchen clock, she could see their time was almost up. "So, was it only Ross you wanted to ask me about?"

"No, actually; there was something else." Pleased to see her acting more like her old self, Grissom returned her smile with one of his own. "I know you're happy to have Sara and Catherine here on Sunday but I was wondering how you'd feel about having a third guest as well." With a quick frown, he shrugged. "Actually, I'm not sure that we can call him a guest really, since he'd be spending most of the night outside."

Surprised by the addendum, Elaine could only stare. "Sara's bringing the dog?"

"No, I didn't mean Hank." Unable to help himself, Grissom chuckled at the suggestion. "I was actually talking about Jim." Suddenly realizing that she'd probably never met the man, he decided a little elucidation was in order. "Jim Brass; he's a homicide detective with LVPD."

"I've heard the name." Surprised by the unexpected turn of events, it took a moment or two for Elaine to respond. "He's your friend, right?" A slow smile appeared. "_And_ your son's grandfather."

"Yes, he is." With a curt nod of agreement, Grissom sighed. "His daughter Ellie, Caleb's mother, was murdered a week and a half ago." He shrugged. "Jim's made it his mission in life to make sure that both Sara and Catherine stay safe this weekend but neither the Sheriff nor the Feds will let him be part of the official operation so, when he found out where they'd be staying, he asked me to see if you'd let him hang out here on the night."

"Will the authorities even allow it?" Mind whirring, Elaine tried desperately to work through the logistics of adding yet another 'guest' to the mix. "I mean, if they've already refused to let him take part-"

Holding his finger up, Grissom cut her off. "They might be able to stop him taking part officially but they can't do anything about him spending the night in someone's driveway; especially if he has the homeowner's permission and promises not to get in the way of the surveillance team." Seeing the continuing doubt on her face, he stepped up the pressure a little. "He just needs to feel part of it all, Elaine. I ran it by Harris on the way over here and he doesn't see any problems as long as Jim promises to remain in his car and do nothing more than keep an eye on the house." One shoulder rose in a casual shrug. "No one will even know he's there."

"Agent Harris really okayed it?" She asked dubiously.

"You can check with him yourself if you like." Grissom answered, confident he'd get his way. "He should be back here any minute now."

"No, no; I'll take your word for it." Seeing no feasible way out of it, Elaine could only concur; she might have to change her plans a little but she'd find some way of dealing with this latest development. "You can tell Captain Brass from me that if he's so determined to spend the night in his car then he's more than welcome to do it in my driveway." Decision made, she grinned. "What the hell; the more the merrier."

TBC


	41. Chapter 41

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 41**

His eyes fixed on the bright green figures displayed on the bedside clock; Grissom almost unconsciously tightened the hold he had on the slumbering woman beside him as 5 p.m. moved inexorably closer.

He'd been awake for hours, an unwilling victim of a mind that refused to shut down and, during that time, had mentally revisited each and every crime scene, reviewed each and every victim and reprocessed each and every piece of evidence that they'd managed to accrue; they'd done everything correctly, he was positive of that, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something.

As he watched, the last digit changed again and he drew in a deep breath as a fresh wave of unease filled him; in five more minute the alarm would go off and their night would begin - a night he'd found himself dreading more and more as the week had gone on.

Along with Harris's positive assessment of Elaine's Green Valley home and agreement that everything would go ahead as planned had come an almost constant avalanche of FBI directives and edicts and those, coupled with the inevitable meetings with both Conrad Ecklie and Sheriff Burdick, had turned what should have been a quite simple, low-key operation into something resembling a presidential visit.

At least, it seemed that way to Grissom.

But it was all over now or, at least, the planning part of it was: Mountainside Drive would have been closed to through traffic almost an hour ago, Harris's men, in their Public Works coveralls, would all be in place and the small convoy of vehicles that had been set up to ensure that the safe house was reached with the minimum of risk would soon be assembling in the large PD car park for final instructions before making the short trip over to the lab to pick up their precious cargo.

Looking down at the tousled head that was currently cradled in the crook of his left arm, he smiled. Nestled snuggly against him, her back to his chest, Sara slept on, apparently unconcerned by whatever lay ahead and that, Grissom decided on the spur of the moment, was exactly the way he intended to keep it.

Loosening his hold slightly, he extricated himself just enough to reach over and feel his way along the short row of buttons on top of the clock, canceling the shrill alarm just seconds before 5:00 flashed up on the small LCD screen.

"That doesn't change the fact that we have to get up, you know." Voice thick with sleep, Sara barely moved as he settled back in his original position

"I know." With the lightest of touches, he ran one finger up her arm and across her shoulder before using it to push her hair out of the way allowing him access to the soft, tender skin at the back of her neck. Nuzzling gently, he couldn't help but smile at the involuntary shiver that he felt run through her followed very closely by a deep, contented sigh. "But I think this is a much better way to start the night, don't you?"

"Uh-huh." Still only half awake, Sara smiled languidly as she stretched before turning in his arms. "But if you keep doing that, I don't think I'll want to get up at all."

"I could live with that." With an answering grin, Grissom leant in for a kiss. "But I don't think the Feds would be too impressed; Harris has spent a lot of time setting everything up for tonight." Lying back on his pillow, he watched as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Sleep well?"

"I did actually." Pushing up onto one elbow, she frowned at the sight of the dark smudges that underlined his eyes. "But I'm guessing the same can't be said for you." Narrowing her own eyes, her voice took on a slightly censuring tone. "I thought we weren't going to worry about tonight."

"I'm not worried!" Determined not to let it show, he underlined his statement with a resolute shake of the head. "I've just been laying here thinking things over, that's all; I want to make sure that we've got everything covered."

It took all of a second for Sara to see it for the lie that it was.

"You know..." Reaching over, she clasped her hand over his. "...with Harris and his boys out in the road, Jim sitting in the driveway and both Vega _and_ Vartann on sentry duty in the street that runs behind Elaine's place, I don't think we could have it any better covered if we tried." She offered him what she hoped was a confident smile. "You do know that Jim's determined that this whole thing ends tonight, don't you?"

"Yeah, he has mentioned it." With a long-suffering sigh, Grissom rolled his eyes. "And if wishful thinking is all that we need to catch our killer then I'm sure Jim will be proven right but somehow I don't think it's going to be quite that easy." Locking his eyes with hers, he shrugged. "But tonight, I don't actually care whether we catch him or not; the only thing I want, is to make sure that he doesn't get anywhere near you."

"He doesn't stand a chance." Realizing he'd just given voice to what was probably his greatest fear, Sara wove her fingers through tightly through his. "I wish you'd change your mind and come with us though; you know Elaine would love to have you there and I'd certainly feel better if I knew exactly where you were."

"You know where I'll be." He pointed out. "I'm spending the night in the lab as planned; I'm not tonight's target, remember?"

"And if he can't find who he wants, who's to say that he won't come after you again instead?"

"He won't." With a quick shake of the head, Grissom confidently dismissed the possibility. "He may have gone off on his own little tangent for a while there but tonight he'll be going by the book and that means two female victims so that pretty much rules me out."

"You can't be sure about that though." Sara argued.

"Not totally, no." He reluctantly conceded. "But I think it's a fair assumption. He's a perfectionist when it comes to copying the original murders so I can't see him deviating away from that now." He smiled. "And besides, I've been warned by the guys that I'll be tackled to the ground if I so much as _think_ about leaving the lab tonight plus Galetti will be there along with a handful of his men so I wouldn't worry about me if I were you; I'm probably going to be better guarded than you are." Glancing past her, he checked the clock. "Jim said they won't be picking you and Catherine up until about half past seven; you want something to eat before we head in?"

"Actually, I've been warned not to." Pushing the covers on her side of the bed down a bit, Sara prepared to rise. "Elaine gave Cath a call early this morning and told her that she was planning to make dinner for us all tonight." She thought for a moment. "Parmigiana I believe she said; eggplant for me and chicken for everyone else."

"Italian, huh?" Grissom eyes narrowed with feigned indignation. "I thought I was supposed to be taking us out for that."

"You were." Sara concurred with a teasing grin. "But it looks to me as if Elaine got tired of waiting and has decided to show you up."

He was about to comment further when the shrill sound of a cell phone suddenly erupted and, with a low groan, Grissom rolled over onto his back and snagged the offending handset from his bedside. Glancing quickly at the caller ID, he frowned and flipped it open.

"Grissom."

The room fell silent for a moment as he listened intently to his caller.

"No, definitely not." Her interest piqued, Sara looked over as Grissom shook his head. "If you want to come and see me sometime during the week then perhaps we can work something out but there's nothing I can do about it just now."

Although unable to make out any specific words, she couldn't fail to miss the all-too-familiar plaintive tone coming over the line.

"I'm sorry, no." Pushing himself up against the headboard, Grissom's voice took on a much firmer tone. "During the week, David, that's the best I can offer; take it or leave it." He listened for a second before a small smile formed. "All right; I'll see you then."

"Hodges?" She guessed.

"Yeah." Disconnecting the call, he sighed. "He wants to come back to work."

"So let him." Pushing to her feet, Sara shrugged on her robe. "He's been on leave for a while now; it'd probably do him the world of good to get back to his usual routine."

"Normally I'd agree with you but I'm afraid it's not as simple as that." Gnawing gently on his bottom lip, Grissom remembered, all too clearly, the trace tech's last day at the lab. "He can't come back while this case is still open."

"What?" Halfway to the bathroom, Sara pulled up quickly. "Why?" She frowned. "Don't tell me he knew one of the victims."

"_Knew_ isn't exactly the word that I'd use." Aware that he'd probably said too much and unwilling to elaborate any further, he decided on a quick change of subject. "When all of this is over, how about we take a vacation? We haven't really done that together yet, have we?"

"A vacation?" Bemused by the unexpected suggestion, Sara could only stare. "I didn't think either of us was really the vacation type." She cocked her head. "Won't it look a bit suspicious if we both take off at the same time?"

"You know. I don't think I care how it looks." Grissom told her truthfully. "Half the lab probably knows about us anyway and I'm sure the other half has their suspicions." He shrugged. "I just think that, after everything we've been through lately, we deserve some time off for some rest and recuperation and getting away from Vegas for a while sounds like the perfect way to do it."

"But I promised Ecklie-"

"Forget what you promised him." Holding up his good hand, he halted the protestation. "Conrad can tell as many people as he wants to that he didn't have prior knowledge of our relationship but I've got a signed and dated hospital admitting form that lists you as my next-of-kin _and_ my partner that proves that he damn well did." Unable to stop it, his mouth curled up in a self-satisfied grin. "So, what do you say; a couple of weeks away it all? We can go anywhere you like."

The sound of claws scrabbling on timber sounded in the hallway outside and, seconds later, a soft whining set up on the other side of the closed bedroom door.

Sara nodded towards the sound. "And what would we do with His Majesty?"

"We'll leave him with Jim." Grissom answered simply. "Hank loves it over there and Jim could do with some babysitting practice; God knows he's going to need it when Caleb finally turns up."

"_If _Caleb turns up." Sara corrected. "Those alerts have been going out for almost two weeks now and so far..." She shrugged, unwilling to finish the sentence.

"There's no 'ifs' about it, honey." Pushing the covers down completely, Grissom swung his legs out of the bed to sit on the edge. "If Jim can have gut feelings about us catching a killer then I'm allowed to have one about that boy." Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiled. "We'll hear something about Caleb soon; just you wait and see."

* * *

Shaking out the final dregs from the bag of mulch, Elaine stood back from the garden bed and smiled. The gardenias she'd planted along the back of the empty space would soon grow enough to obscure the ugly paling fence that divided her property from the one next door but, in the meantime, the lavender, daylilies and sundrops that filled the front would bring a welcome splash of winter color to the small courtyard setting.

Not that she expected to see it, of course.

Balling the large plastic bag up, she deposited it and the hand tools she'd been using on one of the outdoor chairs as the unmistakable aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic filled the air around her. Stepping in through the open French doors, she paused only long enough to wash her hands before grabbing a spoon and giving the almost ready sauce a thorough mixing before scooping a small amount up for a final taste.

The homemade sauce was rich and full of flavor and she nodded in satisfaction as she licked the spoon clean; it was a recipe she'd been using for years, one her husband had always adored and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that her three guests would love it too.

Leaving it to simmer for another few minutes, she looked around the kitchen trying to determine if there was anything she'd forgotten: the chicken and eggplant slices were in the fridge, both already crumbed and ready for the pan; the mozzarella had been grated as had the parmesan and the small bunch of fresh basil that she'd bought that morning was keeping fresh in a water-filled teacup on the bench.

Deciding that there was little more that could be done in the kitchen before her visitors arrived, she turned back to the bench top and pulled across the heavy mortar and pestle as she readied herself to prepare the sauce's final ingredient.

Pulling open the top cupboard, she reached past the array of vials that contained her usual medications and retrieved a small amber colored bottle from the back. Bringing it down, she quickly read the faded label before shaking three of the bright blue tablets it contained into the palm of her hand and dropping them, one by one, into the mortar's marble bowl. She stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not the dose would be enough before, with an almost indifferent shrug, she emptied what was left of the contents in for good measure.

Lifting the pestle, she quickly crushed the tablets before hefting the unwieldy mortar and carrying it across to the bubbling pot; upending it, she watched as the fine powder settled first on the surface of the liquid before slowly sinking into it, the blue disappearing into the sea of deep red sauce.

Spoon in hand, Elaine gave it a final vigorous stir before turning the gas off. If there was any discernible taste from the pills then she'd simply explain it away as a particularly tart batch of tomatoes but she didn't think there would be and besides, given the speed those tablets worked, she doubted anyone would even be conscious long enough to comment on it.

With a satisfied grin, she placed the saucepan's glass lid on and headed briskly out of the room; her guests were expected in just a few short hours and, like the perfect hostess her mother had taught her to be, Elaine was determined that _everything_ would be ready and waiting for them.

* * *

"All right, folks." Squatting down beside the parked black Dodge, Paul Galetti nodded at all three of the vehicle's passengers before addressing himself to the Charger's driver. "Looks like you're good to go." Gesturing over towards the other side of the Crime Lab's car park, he pointed out a large silver Escalade. "Jerry over there is going to take point and I want you to pull out right behind him; the other escort vehicles will fall in around and behind you and that's the way we want to keep it all the way to Mountainside Drive."

"I have done this before you know." Fingers drumming impatiently on top of the steering wheel, Jim looked around at the small collection of vehicles, no two alike and all unmarked, which made up the night's security detail.

"Not as the primary target you haven't." Galetti pointed out. "And that's exactly what you'll be while you've got these two ladies in the car with you." He glanced back over as, one by one, the other cars started up. "You'll be taking surface streets all the way down to Green Valley, that'll make it easier for my men to see if someone else has set up a tail, but the only thing you really have to worry about is sticking with Jerry." He shrugged. "If it looks like there's trouble, he'll get you out of there straight away."

"Thanks, Galetti." Dropping one hand from the steering wheel, Jim turned the key in the ignition. "But like I said, I know the drill." All but dismissing the agent, he turned his head to the right and smiled at his two traveling companions. "We all set?"

"Too late to pull out now, I guess" Reaching back, Catherine pulled her seatbelt over her shoulder.

"I'll be over there at 8am to pick you up, okay?" Leaning in the open window of the front passenger door, Grissom's lips quirked up in a sheepish smile as he held up his splinted left hand. "Well, I'll have to get one of the guys to drive me, obviously but I _will_ be there, I promise."

"You don't have to do that, Gil." Brass told him. "I'll drive us all back here just as soon as the Feds opens up the road again."

"No, I want to do it." Grissom insisted. "Believe me, I'm going to feel a whole lot better about this thing once morning rolls around and I thought we could go out for breakfast afterwards; just the four of us."

"Better make that five, Gil." Catherine spoke up from the back seat. "After all, if it wasn't for Elaine, Sara and I could have been spending the night stuck out in the middle of nowhere." Still irked by Jim's suggestion of Beatty as the perfect hideaway, she glared meaningfully at the back of his detective's head before addressing Grissom once more. "We've got to do something to pay her back."

"You're right." He nodded his agreement. "We can hardly leave her out of it, can we?" Giving the hand he held a gently squeeze, he smiled at Sara. "So, make sure you invite her along too, okay? It's probably the least we can do."

"We will." Returning the pressure automatically, Sara's attention was captured as the Escalade backed out of its parking space and began inching its way across the lot towards them. Turning back to face her lover, she sighed. "I guess it's time."

"I guess it is." Aware of their immediate audience as well as the security cameras that covered that particular section of the lot, Grissom leaned further in to press an almost chaste kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you at eight."

"Okay then…" Pressing his foot to the brake, Jim slid the sedan's transmission into drive and waited for both Grissom and Galetti to step back from the car before using the master control to close all four windows and lock the car up tight; he paused just long enough for the large SUV to roll by in front of them before easing his foot up and steering the Dodge in behind it. "…let's get this show on the road."

TBC


	42. Chapter 42

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 42**

* * *

_**A/N:** My apologies for the even longer than usual gap between chapters; between having a family member in hospital, a birthday party to organize and then getting sick myself there wasn't a whole lot I could do to avoid it but things seem to be settling down now and I appreciate your patience._

* * *

The view through the French doors was all but nonexistent. The small courtyard garden was in almost total darkness but, even if it hadn't been, the sheets of rain that had been steadily falling over the city for the past half hour would have obscured anything that there was to see. Taking a half-step backwards, Sara wrapped both arms around herself as she looked out through the glass, the smallest of shivers running through her as she stared into the blackness beyond.

"You're not cold, are you?" Busy at the kitchen worktop, Elaine looked across with concern. "I don't have the heating on; I really didn't think it was chilly enough for that but, if you're feeling-"

"No." Turning, Sara offered her hostess an easy smile. "No, I'm not cold at all; it's just the sound of the rain really." She shrugged lightly. "Well, that and the darkness, I guess."

"Sounds like Grissom's rubbing off on you." Comfortably ensconced at the breakfast bar, Catherine grinned. "You should have seen him tonight, Elaine; he pretty much glued himself to her side while we were waiting for Jim to turn up and then wouldn't give up his hold on her until Galetti gave us clearance to leave." She chuckled. "Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected did his best to try and hide it but he had a bad case of nervous tension going back there. I bet he didn't stop pacing until he got the call telling him we arrived here safe and sound."

"I thought he was okay with all of this." Intent on covering every inch of the small baking dish's base with the freshly-cooked eggplant slices, Elaine frowned. "I mean, it was his idea that the two of you came here tonight, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Moving across to the counter, Sara shot her still grinning colleague a contemptuous glare as she took a seat beside her. "And I'm sure he's still fine with it too, he was just a little bit on edge, that's all." Leaning forward, she watched as her hostess spooned the rich tomato sauce liberally over of the crumbed aubergine. "That looks delicious."

"Wait until you taste it." Elaine promised as she carefully spread the sauce out evenly across the top. "John always used to say that that this particular dish was the reason that he married me." Pushing the almost empty saucepan to one side, she reached for the grated cheese. "Mind you, I have changed the recipe a little since those days but, if anything, I think it's probably even better now than it was back then."

"How long were you two married?" With her chin cradled in her cupped hand, Catherine looked on as the cheese was sprinkled across the top of the dish.

"Almost twenty years." Glancing up, Elaine offered both visitors a small smile. "We met in late February 1983 and got married at the beginning of April." She chuckled at the twin looks of surprise that her revelation caused. "It sounds kind of rushed, doesn't it; but it wasn't, not really." Satisfied that her creation was complete, she carefully carried the baking dish over and placed it beside the larger chicken version that she'd put together earlier. "We both knew from the moment we met that we were meant to be together so what was the point in waiting?"

"And you never had kids?"

"No, unfortunately not." Standing with her back to the other two women, Elaine drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it slowly escape. "We wanted them, of course, but..." Reaching across, she quickly felt the side of the coffee pot to make sure it was still hot. "... it just wasn't meant to be." Turning round again, she quickly pasted on a smile. "But how about you, Sara; are you looking forward to becoming a mother?

Taken aback, Sara stared. "Sorry?"

"When the baby's found." Elaine clarified. "I take it you and Gil will be raising him together."

"Oh, right." Shifting slightly on her stool, Sara smiled and shrugged. "You know, with everything that's going on right now, I really haven't had much chance to think about it." She looked from one woman to the other. "Neither of us has actually."

"Well don't you think you'd better start?" Turning on her own seat, Catherine stared incredulously at the younger woman. "For all you know, Caleb could turn up tomorrow." Cocking her head to one side, she narrowed her eyes. "You have, at least, started shopping for him, right?"

"Well, no; not exactly." Uncomfortable under the weight of the unexpected interrogation, Sara looked for a way out. "But I do know for a fact that Jim's been buying up big for him so I'm sure Caleb's going to have everything he could possibly need when we do find out where he is."

"You can't leave everything up to his grandfather, Sara." Bending to pull open the oven door, Elaine didn't even try to disguise the censure in her tone. "Since Gil's finally decided to accept responsibility for the boy then it's only fair that he's the one that provides for him." With her hand protectively covered with a kitchen towel, she extracted a third small baking dish from the hot range and placed it up on the counter before sliding the two others back in its place.

"I didn't say we were leaving everything up to Jim." Bristling at the older woman's implication as well as the manner in which it was made, Sara stiffened. "Caleb will be perfectly provided for; we'll make sure of that."

"And, speaking of Jim..." All too aware of the sudden atmosphere, Catherine sought to temper it slightly as she nodded towards the piping hot dish. "Is all of that for him?"

"It certainly is." Suddenly realizing the anger her comments had caused, Elaine broke into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Sara, I never shouldn't have said that."

"That's okay." Relaxing once again, Sara returned the smile with an embarrassed one of her own. "I probably shouldn't have taken it the way I did anyway." She shrugged. "It's just kind of a weird situation, you know?"

"I imagine it is." With a sympathetic nod, Elaine slid the finished parmigiana onto the counter. "Now, how on Earth is he going to eat this while he's sitting in a car?"

"Very, very carefully." Catherine chuckled as she watched her transfer the steaming chicken and all of its accompanying sauce to a large plate.

"I'm sure Jim'll manage just fine." Sara commented, her good humor now restored. "After all, when you think of the all the junk food that usually gets consumed on a stakeout, this is fine dining." Her lips quirked up into an easy grin. "I'll bet you anything that plate comes back without so much as a crumb left on it."

"Nothing would make me happier." Folding a large serviette in half, Elaine slipped it beneath the plate before pulling an insulated travel mug from the cupboard and quickly filling it the brim with hot coffee. "Okay then..." With the mug in hand, she returned for the plate. "I'll just run this out to him and, by the time I get back, _our_ dinner should be just about done."

Hoping down from her stool, Catherine crossed the room to hold the door open for her. "Anything you'd like us to do while you're gone?"

"Nope, nothing at all." Pausing on the threshold, Elaine turned to smile happily at both of her guests. "Trust me, ladies; I've got _everything _under control."

* * *

"You get evicted from your own office?"

"Actually, I evicted myself." Glancing up from the report he was currently studying, Grissom nodded a quick greeting to the first member of his depleted team to arrive for the night's shift. "Galetti's got paperwork he needs to get done and I was only getting in the way." Both shoulders rose in the briefest of shrugs. "Just because I can't concentrate at the moment doesn't mean his work should suffer." Taking in the younger man's somewhat soggy appearance, he frowned. "I'm going to assume that it's still raining out there."

"It's down to a steady drizzle now." Moving into the room, Greg came to a halt at the edge of the large central table and swept his fingers self-consciously through his rain-dampened hair. "I think it'll ramp up again soon though; the clouds coming in from the north look kind of ominous."

"Goes with the night then." Grissom commented dryly, his eyes dropping once again to the papers laid out before him.

"Yeah, I guess it does." Cocking his head towards the empty mug that sat beside his boss's elbow, Greg's brow raised in question. "You want a refill in that? I've got a bag of Blue Hawaiian stashed away in here that nobody knows about; I don't mind breaking it out for you."

"Thanks, Greg." With a distracted but appreciative smile, Grissom slid his cup across the table. "I'm probably going to be living on the stuff tonight so I might as well enjoy it, right?"

Taking the cup across to the counter, Greg sniffed suspiciously at the almost empty coffee pot before dumping what was left of its dubious contents into the sink and vigorously rinsing out the pot with fresh water; then, after a quick check of the immediate area for onlookers, he retrieved his precious stash from its hiding place and began his preparations.

"Cath and Sara got away all right?" He asked, speaking back over his shoulder as he tapped the final spoonful of finely-ground powder into the top of the coffee maker.

"Yeah, they did." With the sudden realization that he'd just read through the same paragraph three times without actually taking any of it in, Grissom gave up on his rather futile attempt at revision and began gathering the paperwork that surrounded him together. "Brass picked them up and took them over a couple of hours ago." He checked his watch. "They're probably sitting back and enjoying the meal Elaine promised them as we speak."

"Well at least they'll be safe over there." Leaving the coffee to its own devices, Greg returned to the table and pulled out a chair. "From what I've heard, Harris has got the place tied up tight."

"Yes, he has." Grissom nodded. "You know, we may have had our differences at the start of this whole mess but I really can't complain about the way the FBI's coordinated this thing; as far as I'm concerned, with both Frank and Jim there..." He smiled. "... and Elaine of course, Sara and Catherine couldn't be in safer hands."

Greg nodded his agreement. "So what's the plan for the rest of us tonight?"

"That all depends on what comes in." Shoving the file dismissively into the middle of the table, Grissom leant back in his seat. "If it's something that can wait then we'll shunt it onto Days but if it's something that can't then two of you will go out together accompanied by both PD and Federal escorts - you will work the scene together, you will stay within clear sight of at least one armed officer at all times and, under no circumstances, will anybody wander off alone." Seeing Greg's brow furrow, he sought to reassure the young CSI. "I'm not expecting any trouble for _us_ tonight, Greg but I'm not willing to take any chances either; I want the whole of Grave getting through tonight unscathed."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for a quiet night then." Raising his head slightly, Greg inhaled the heady aroma that was beginning to waft around the room and, glancing over at the counter, smiled at the sight of the steady stream of rich, black liquid that was beginning to fill the glass carafe. Remembering something he'd been meaning to ask Grissom, he looked back with a sudden frown. "Elaine hasn't mentioned anything about Ross, has she? I was hoping she might have seen him by now."

"Not to me she hasn't." Leaning forward slightly, Grissom folded his arms on the table. "But she does know you're looking for him; I'm sure she'd have given us a call if she had."

It's just weird, you know." Pushing to his feet, Greg made his way back over to the counter as Grissom turned in his seat to watch him. "I've been trying to get hold of him all week; he's not answering at home, his cell phone seems to be turned off and I'm going to guess that his voicemail is full since I don't even get the option of leaving a message anymore." Grabbing a couple of clean mugs from the cupboard, he placed them side-by-side in front of the rapidly filling coffee pot. "I've stopped by his apartment every day this week and there's no sign of him or his car." Turning back to face his boss, he shrugged helplessly. "It just doesn't seem right to me; he's not the type to take off and not say something."

"Are you really sure of that?" Well aware of his young colleague's concerns, and even sharing them to some degree, Grissom, nonetheless, found himself playing devil's advocate. "I mean, I know you got on well with the guy but you've really only known him for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, but if I learnt anything about Ross Martin during those weeks it's that he loved the work we were doing out in that garage and he would not have just walked away from it." Leaning back against the edge of the counter, Greg sighed. "I even managed to track down the mechanic that he was supposed to be seeing about a job and Ross never turned up." He shook his head. "No, something about all of this isn't right."

"Okay then..." Swayed by both the conviction in his voice and the obvious validity of his concerns, Grissom nodded. "Let's get tonight over and done with and then we'll see what we can do about finding him." He held up a cautioning finger. "It won't be anything official though, that'll have to wait until his parents get back and file a missing person's report but I imagine, in the meantime, we can probably get Brass to make some 'unofficial' enquiries for us."

"His folks are due back at the end of the week so it won't have to be unofficial for long." Feeling as though a weight had suddenly been lifted from him, Greg grinned his appreciation. "And I'll just be glad to have somebody helping me out."

"Well, you've done a lot for me lately." Pleased to see the young man relax again, Grissom returned the grin with a small smile of his own. "It's probably about time I did something to return the-"

He paused as his cell phone rang and, pulling it from his pocket, took a moment to read the small screen before flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

"Yes, Judy."

Trying his best not to eavesdrop but unable to really avoid it, Greg looked on with growing interest as his boss's expression darkened appreciably as the lab's receptionist spoke.

"Dammit." Tone curt, Grissom all but spat the word out. "All right, tell him not to move an inch; I'll be right there."

"Great!" Snapping his phone closed, he shoved it back into its pocket with an exasperated sigh. "That's just what I need tonight."

"Problem?" Greg frowned.

"You could say that." Running his hand through his hair, Grissom silently cured his luck. "Apparently, David Hodges has just presented himself at the reception desk and is refusing to leave until he sees me."

"What's he doing out there?" Greg frowned in confusion. "I mean, I know he's on leave at the moment but he does still work here; why didn't he just come in?"

"Because I'm sure he knows that if he did that I'd fire him on the spot." Cutting off any further questions, Grissom pushed to his feet. "Look, I'm going to have to go and sort this mess out but do me a favor and keep that coffee hot, okay?" Grabbing hold of his jacket, he headed for the door. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

TBC


	43. Chapter 43

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 43**

The sudden flare of a nearby security light was his first indication of movement.

Eyes swiveling towards the rear-view mirror, Jim saw two cap-clad heads emerge from the small work tent that had been erected down in the street and watched as a single hand was held up in recognition before, satisfied that all was well, both agents disappeared back inside the canvas covering.

A second light, this one mounted on the top corner of the garage, suddenly flashed on as Elaine, her back pressed tightly against the house wall, edged her way around the corner using the protection of the overhanging eaves to keep both herself and the plate she held as dry as possible. Guessing her intention, Jim quickly reached across, pulled at the handle and pushed the door wide as she made a quick dash across the driveway and into the warmth of the large black Charger.

"The last forecast I heard said that we were only going to have a shower or two." Holding out both the plate and the travel mug, Elaine waited for Jim to take them before brushing the freshly fallen raindrops from her hair. "I guess the weather bureau got it wrong."

"Nothing new there then." Jim commented with a chuckle as he carefully set the hot coffee down in the center console's mug holder. Turning his attention to the plate in his hand, he raised it up slightly and sniffed at the rich aroma. "Boy that smells good." He smiled appreciatively at the newcomer. "But you really didn't need to go to all this trouble, you know; not for me anyway."

"Well, it was hardly trouble since I was making it for Catherine and Sara anyway." Settling herself back in the passenger seat, Elaine watched as he balanced the plate in his lap and reached for the mug. "I just hope you enjoy it."

"Well, it's definitely a step up from the dinner I thought I'd be having tonight." He sipped at the piping hot liquid before jerking his thumb towards the car's back seat. "I've got a bag back there full of pretty much every kind of junk food known to man."

"Ah yes, the stakeout diet." Turning slightly, Elaine watched his every move. "You know, I think surveillance work was probably the only aspect of the job that my husband truly hated."

"I haven't met the cop yet who enjoys it." Returning the cup to its holder, Jim reached for the cutlery. "He worked homicide too, right?"

"Yes; yes he did." She nodded. "Although, he originally started out in Vice." She paused for just a moment as he she watched him cut into the thick chicken fillet. "He transferred over to Homicide when we decided to get married."

"Smart man." Smothering his first mouthful with plenty of the deep red sauce, Jim held the loaded fork over the top of the plate as he continued to speak. "It's a hard detail to work when you've got family waiting at home for you." Both shoulders arced in a resigned shrug. "I ought to know; I was a vice cop in Newark way back when. I'm not saying it was directly responsible for the breakdown of my marriage but it was definitely a contributing factor."

"I can understand that." Elaine offered him a knowing smile before nodding down at the idle fork. "You don't mind me staying while you eat, do you?" Her brow rose in question. "I just thought, since we didn't really get a chance to chat when you first arrived..."

"Yeah," Jim chuckled. "Harris was in one hell of a hurry to get Sara and Cath into the house, wasn't he?" Aware that he still hadn't answered her question, Jim shook his head. "No, I don't mind if you stay at all." Raising the fork to his lips, he pulled the chicken from it and began to chew, completely oblivious to the satisfied grin that his actions were currently producing. "Mmm." Swallowing the morsel, he quickly wiped his mouth with the folded serviette. "This is delicious."

"Thank you." Delighted by the reaction, Elaine looked on as he skewered another piece then, schooling her features, turned even further in the seat. "I heard about your daughter, Captain; I just wanted you to know how sorry I was."

"It's Jim, please." More used to offering expressions of sympathy than receiving them, Brass paused mid-chew. "And thank you; it's been..." He sighed heavily. "... a difficult couple of weeks."

"I imagine it has." Elaine shrugged. "But, at least, she left you a grandson; that's something to be grateful for, surely?" She cocked her head. "Do you happen to have a picture of him at all?"

"Of course." Leaning forward slightly, Jim pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. "There you go." Handing it across, he went back to his meal. "Cath found a whole album of photos but that's the one I liked best."

"He's a handsome boy." Looking down into the smiling blue eyes, Elaine studied Caleb's features carefully. "I guess he looks like his mother, huh?"

"From what I can remember of Ellie at that age, yeah, I guess he does." Swallowing, Jim shrugged. "Although her eyes were more of a hazel color and she definitely never had dimples like that."

"He had to get something from his father, I suppose." Keeping hold of the wallet, Elaine smiled. "It's a good thing that you and Gil get on so well, I'm sure it'll make things a lot easier when it comes to raising the little one."

"Well, we've got to find him first." The final syllable came out slightly slurred and Jim frowned as a wave of dizziness swept over him. "Oh, jeez."

"Something wrong?" Her tone was almost conversational.

"I..." His fork clattered onto the plate as Brass pressed the heels of both hands against his forehead. "I... don't know." He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly as he fought to shake off the sudden lightheadedness. "I felt... fine... a minute ago."

"Don't fight it." Not taking her eyes off him, Elaine reached across and lifted the half-eaten dish from his lap. "It won't last long."

"What..." Opening his eyes again, Jim blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on the woman in the passenger seat. He raised one hand, jerky and uncoordinated, and wiped it roughly across his face as if trying to clear the rapidly encroaching fog that seemed intent on enveloping him. "What's... happening?"

"Something that really didn't need to." Elaine informed him as she pulled the travel mug from its holder. "But, unfortunately for you, it looks like interfering in other people's business is something of a Brass family trait." She tutted impatiently beneath her breath as he slumped sideways against the driver's door and placed the mug and plate onto the car's floor before reaching over the top of him to grab hold of the retractable seatbelt. "I think we'd better put this on, don't you? We wouldn't want your colleagues out in the street to think you've fallen asleep on the job."

"I don't..." With his breathing beginning to labor and his strength now completely gone, Jim's was unable to help himself as she hauled him upright again. "...understand."

"It's quite simple, really." Holding him firmly against the back of the seat, Elaine clicked the belt home, securing him in place. "I'm the person you've been after this whole time; I'm the one who killed the whores, I'm the one who killed your daughter and now, I'm killing you." Glancing out through the rear window, she scanned the wet street for movement and smiled when she saw none. "You should probably consider yourself lucky, you know; considering the methods I usually employ, this is a much more peaceful way to go."

"Cathe... rine"

"You know, I actually like Catherine." Elaine told him candidly. "And, under different circumstances, I think we really could have been good friends but..." She shrugged. "All she is now is a lure although nowhere near as big a one as Sara, obviously

"S... Sara?" Jim struggled to keep his eyes open.

"The only thing I'm truly sorry about is that Sara had no idea what she was getting herself involved with." Leaning forward, she retrieved the plate and mug from the floor and balanced them on her knee. "If I'd acted sooner, I may have been able to protect her but..." She sighed heavily. "I have no doubt, it's too late now." Reaching across, she placed a comforting hand on Brass's slumped shoulder. "Don't worry Jim, my way will be quicker and kinder; I promise you that."

"Noooo." Calling on the very last of his depleted reserves, Jim forced his hand down by his side, his fingers fumbling uselessly against the seatbelt release as he tried to coordinate them into pressing the button. "C... an't let y..."

He managed nothing more, the drug surging through his system finally winning out, and Elaine smiled to herself as she watched him lapse into complete unconsciousness.

Easing the small photograph from his wallet, she slipped it into her pocket before opening the Charger's passenger door and climbing out. Closing the door behind her, she scurried back across the driveway to the shelter of the eaves before glancing back down the driveway to the street beyond; the same young agent who had acknowledged her earlier had, once again, popped his head out of the tent but this time she beat him to it, her free hand coming up in a friendly wave as she hurried back around the front of the house towards the entrance.

Stepping in out of the rain, she'd just closed and locked the heavy solid timber door when the unmistakable ding of the oven timer sounded in the kitchen and, brushing the last of the raindrops from her shoulders, Elaine smiled happily as she headed through to serve dinner to her two remaining guests.

TBC


	44. Chapter 44

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 44**

Stalking into the waiting area, Grissom barely glanced at the lab's perpetually nervous receptionist as he made a beeline for the all-too familiar figure standing at the far end of the large desk that dominated the entrance foyer. Coming to a halt directly in front of David Hodges, he locked eyes with the tech before purposefully lowering his voice and leaning in.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Taken aback at the vehemence with which the words were delivered, Hodges visibly flinched. "I thought-"

"No David, that the problem, you didn't think at all." Grabbing hold of the other man's elbow, Grissom towed him out of earshot and towards the large plate-glass window that made up the front wall of the room. "Because, if you had, I'm sure you would have remembered that I told you I didn't want you anywhere near this place right now." Pressing Hodges down into one of the reception area's plastic chairs, he loomed over the top of him. "So, I'll ask you again – what the hell are you doing?"

"Look, I couldn't help myself, okay; I'm going insane at home alone." Unseen in over a week and a half, the changes in Hodges were subtle but noticeable: his face was pale, the two seemingly permanent frown lines at the bridge of his nose etched just a little deeper than they had been and dark smudges underlined each eye. He'd lost some weight during his absence causing the shirt that he wore, obviously clean but badly ironed, to blouse up over the top of the tightly belted waist of his faded jeans. "Mom left me a checklist of everything that I had to take care of after she was..." Still uncomfortable speaking about his recently deceased mother, Hodges sighed heavily "...gone." He looked up plaintively. "I've done all of that and I need something else to do. I spend each night either staring at the walls or watching inane programs on television and it's going to drive me nuts."

"Get out of the house then." Anger abating in the face of the other man's despair, Grissom lowered himself into the opposite seat. "There's no law that says you have spend your every waking moment at home, David."

"And what do you suggest I do? Go catch a movie, prop up a bar?" With a determined shake of his head, Hodges dismissed the notion. "None of that's me, you know that; I _need_ to get back to work, I _need_ to get back to my lab."

"Well, you're going to have to find something to occupy yourself with because that is not about to happen." Grissom leaned forward, determined to make the tech see sense. "Not while we've still got this case on the books anyway. Ecklie and I have managed to keep your name out of things so far but if you insist on hanging around here, I don't think we'll be able to keep it that way for long; the lab is crawling with FBI, David and you know how they like to ask awkward questions."

The bright glare of headlights swept across the room as a vehicle swung into the front lot and, glancing out through the window, Grissom groaned as he recognized not only the car but also the three men in it.

"Oh great, that's all I need." Tracking the large sedan as it pulled to a halt in its assigned parking space, he pushed to his feet. "Get up and follow me."

Watching him rise, Hodges blinked in confusion. "But-"

"We don't have time for buts, David; Conrad's just arrived and he's got both the sheriff and the under sheriff with him." Grissom turned back towards the entrance to the lab. "So, if you still want to have a job in five minutes time, I seriously suggest you do as I say."

Without waiting, he retreated back towards the safety of the lab, pausing at the reception desk only long enough to issue Judy with an unexpected edict.

"If anybody asks, you have no idea where I am, okay?" The sound of hurried footsteps alerted him to Hodges presence and he jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. "And you haven't seen him at all."

"Yes, sir, Dr. Grissom" Always eager to please, Judy all but snapped to attention as she received her orders.

Leading the way along the corridor, Grissom glanced quickly at his watch to check the time; the lab was quiet now but with a shift change due in less than twenty minutes, traffic would definitely be picking up. Add to that, the fact that Ecklie and his visitors would also, undoubtedly, be prowling around and he had to find somewhere to hide Hodges quickly.

Turning the corner, he looked up ahead and could just make out Paul Galetti, head down and hard at work behind the desk in his office. The agent had been busy for hours, intent on coordinating as much of the night's operation as he could whilst keeping an ear out, and his fingers crossed for, any calls from dispatch that could turn out to be the expected double 419s. As he'd explained earlier, with the primary targets stashed away, the most likely scenario was that 'Jack' would seek out alternative victims and, when he did, Galetti wanted to be the first to know.

A burst of laughter drifted out from immediately behind the closed locker room door and, at the same moment, the sound of a ringing telephone issued from the office up ahead. Feeling the breath catch in his throat, Grissom watched as Galetti's head rose from his paperwork as he reached out for the handset and, realizing he had no choice if Hodges presence was to remain a secret, he yanked open the layout room door and all but thrust the tech through it before following him in, locking the door and quickly closing the blinds.

"Take a seat, sit quietly and do not say a word!"

Moving to the corner of the large room, Grissom slipped his finger around the edge of the blind and watched as Nick and Warrick, still chuckling at whatever it was that had caused the raucous laugh, emerged from the locker room opposite and made their way along the hallway towards the break room. Pulling the blind a little more, he checked the other direction and, seeing no movement that way, allowed himself to breath for the first time in what seemed like minutes.

"Did anyone see me?" The question was tentative and held absolutely none of the usual Hodges bravado.

"No, I don't think so." Letting the blind fall into place again, Grissom turned his back on the glass wall and moved across to the table. "Galetti's fairly preoccupied at the moment anyway and I'm pretty sure the guys didn't either." Pulling out the nearest chair, he sank down into it. "You'll be safe enough here for now, I'll smuggle you out the back way when the shift change is underway." He shrugged. "Provided Burdick and McKeen aren't hanging about, of course."

"Wow." Hodges nod was automatic as his eyes swept around the room. "This is everything you've collected so far?"

"Pretty much; yeah." Glancing round himself, Grissom took in the impressive array of photographs, maps and charts that chronicled the copycat case. "Not that it's got us anywhere so far but, with some luck, that might change tonight."

Getting to his feet, Hodges moved closer, clearly intent on studying each display and had just opened his mouth to speak when a there was a sharp rapping on the room's glass door.

"Gil?"

Both men froze as Conrad Ecklie called through the closed door.

"I know you're in there, Gil and I'm sure you're busy but I really need you out here; Sheriff Burdick has a couple of questions about tonight's operation and, since Agent Galetti's in the middle of a phone call, I figured you were the next best one to ask."

"Um... yeah, Conrad." Realizing there was no getting away from it, Grissom locked eyes with Hodges, daring the man to make a sound as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "I'll be out in second, okay; I just need to take care of something first."

"Thank you." With just a hint of impatience in his tone, Ecklie grudgingly acquiesced. "We'll be waiting for you in my office."

Listening intently, Grissom waited until the sound of retreating footsteps had disappeared entirely before daring to speak again.

"This should only take five minutes so I want you to stay quiet in here until I get back." Pulling his keys from his pocket, he fumbled through them until he found the one he was after. "I'll lock the door behind me so you should be safe enough; just stay away from the blinds and don't touch anything, okay?"

"I won't, I promise." Stepping back, clear of the doorway, Hodges nodded reassuringly as he gestured to the surrounding walls. "I'll keep myself busy checking all of this out while you're gone." Glancing back, the edges of his mouth curled up into the all-too familiar arrogant grin. "Who knows, maybe I'll be able to crack the case for you."

"Yeah, who knows?" Grissom parroted sarcastically as he pulled the door open and prepared to leave. "Maybe you will at that."

* * *

Having scraped what was left of her carefully constructed dinner into the trash, Elaine hummed quietly beneath her breath as she rinsed the three plates clean of sauce and loaded them into the dishwasher alongside the baking dishes and cutlery. Turning the machine on, she paused for a moment, waiting to hear the reassuring hiss of spraying water before moving on to the next of her chores.

She worked almost by rote, opening the cupboard below the sink to retrieve a bottle of surface cleaner and a cloth and then wiping down each and every countertop before moving across to the stove where she scrubbed the ceramic cooktop until it gleamed. Returning to the sink, she washed the cloth out thoroughly, wringing it well, before leaving it out on the draining board to dry and slid the spray bottle back into place before turning to inspect her handiwork.

The kitchen was spotless and, having spent most of the morning in a flurry of vacuuming, dusting and polishing, Elaine knew the rest of the house was too; she'd always kept an immaculate home and there was no way, even at this late stage, that she was breaking that habit now.

Making her way across to the coffee pot, she poured a cup and carried it carefully over to the breakfast bar before pulling out a stool and taking a seat. Letting her gaze wander around the room, she smiled at the memories of the four years she'd spent there – they hadn't all been good, naturally, but for the most part she'd been comfortable and content. It had also been the first home she'd truly been able to call her own; up until her marriage she'd only ever shared abodes with either her parents and siblings or various roommates and, although John had given her free reign in the houses that they'd owned together, this place was hers and hers alone. She'd be sorry to leave it, there was no doubt about that, but the day that she had to was always going to come and, if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that that day had well and truly arrived.

It wasn't meant to end like this though, surrounded on all sides by undercover cops – albeit unsuspecting ones - and raising her cup to her lips, Elaine decided that it wasn't going to; a single phone call should rectify the problem but it wasn't quite time for that yet.

The house was quiet around her, the only discernible sounds being the ticking of the wall clock above her head and the faint tapping of the rain outside as it fell on the tiled roof. The downpour had lightened appreciably since her side trip out to the Dodge though and she sent a silent prayer skywards in the hope that it would clear the city all together – the next step in her plan was going to be an exercise in orchestration as it was, she didn't really need the added complication of continuing bad weather.

Placing her cup back down on the counter, she pushed to her feet and traversed the kitchen once more as she headed into the small mud room. Pulling open the door of the large built-in cupboard, she reached up to the top shelf and retrieved the black, leather-covered case and small paper sack she'd placed up there earlier. Cradling both in the crook of her arm, she made her way back to her seat and settled once again on the stool.

She pushed her coffee out of the way as she placed both items side by side in front of her, running her hand lovingly across the top of the dark leather before flipping the catches on the front and pulling it open. The item inside was exactly as John Grogan had left it and, reaching in, Elaine carefully eased it free of its molded, velvet-lined home; the Heckler and Koch USP was heavy in her hand, much heavier than she remembered it but, then again, it had been four years since she'd last held it.

Balancing it with ease, she clearly heard her husband's voice in her mind as he instructed her in the fine art of sighting a target and, arm outstretched, she took unerring aim at the small framed print on the opposite wall. Lining up the topmost peak in the alpine scene, she narrowed her eyes, calmed her breathing and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The metallic click the unloaded gun made sounded unnaturally loud in the silent house and, with a small chuckle of amusement, Elaine dropped the nose of the gun downwards as she worked the small lever below the trigger guard. The black metal and polymer magazine dropped free of the weapon and, retrieving it from her lap, she pulled the brown paper sack closer and extracted the box of 9mm ammunition, counted out 15 rounds and thumbed them, one by one, into the clip. Holding the now full magazine beneath the handgrip, she pushed it back in, waiting to hear the click of it hitting home before taking her hand away again.

Ensuring that the safety was engaged, she placed the gun down on the counter, reached for her coffee and took a deep swig from the cup, her nose wrinkling with distaste as the rapidly cooling brew hit her throat. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she pushed to her feet and, rounding the breakfast bar, poured what was left in her cup down the sink before glancing up to check the clock on the wall.

Tapping her fingers carefully against the glass wall of the coffee pot, she nodded in approval at the feel of the heat coming off the liquid inside and made up her mind – she had plenty of time, there was certainly no reason to rush so she'd pour herself a second cup and drink it at her leisure _then_ she'd make the phone call that would set everything, inexorably, in motion.

* * *

Turning the key in the lock, Grissom quickly checked both ways along the hallway before pulling the glass door open and stepping inside only to be brought up short by the sight that awaited him.

Ruler in one hand and marker in the other, David Hodges was in the process of drawing a long black line across the large city map that dominated the front wall of the layout room and, standing dumbstruck in the entrance, Grissom could watch as the tech lifted the ruler, repositioned it and then proceeded to add to the vandalism with yet another purposeful stroke of the felt-tip pen.

It wasn't until the man stepped back from the wall to survey his handiwork that Grissom finally found the ability to speak.

"What the-"

"Oh good, you're back." Completely unabashed by the seemingly wanton defacement, Hodges' eyebrows rose in query as he glanced over towards his boss. "Did you know that the nail wounds in your hand correspond exactly to the first four crime scenes on this map?"

"Excuse me?" Grissom blinked in confusion.

"They do, look." Waving him closer, Hodges pointed first to the bright red pins that marked the locations of the four copycat murders and then ran his finger down the two long diagonal lines that he'd just drawn. "If you connect these four crime scenes you end up with a large uneven X and..." Moving across slightly, he tapped his finger on the photograph that was now pinned beside the map. "If you connect the nails in your hand in exactly the same way, you get exactly the same uneven X." Taking a step back, he gestured proudly at his two exhibits. "The scale is off, obviously, but apart from that they're identical; the angles of both lines are exactly the same."

Stepping up to the photo, Grissom examined it closely; it had been taken in the emergency room just before he'd been transported up to the OR and clearly showed the four nail heads embedded in his palm. The first had been positioned just below the junction of his first and second fingers while the second had been driven in half an inch south of his ring finger joint - it was these two nails that had severed the tendons to his fingers and he found himself cupping the hard plastic splint that supported them as he scrutinized the picture in front of him. The third nail was located towards the outside edge of his palm whilst the final one sat squarely at the base of his thumb. Hodges had been busy with his marker here too and, Grissom had to admit, the two resultant intersecting crosses were, apart from the obvious size difference, almost indistinguishable.

"I'm wondering of your killer's a 51's fan." Hodges posited, leaning back against the table as he watched his boss closely. "I mean, Cashman Field's not exactly dead center there but it's pretty damn close."

"Close but not close enough." Grissom commented, as he leaned in for a more in depth inspection. "I do think you're right about the dead center bit though," He jabbed his finger at the green rectangular space on the corner of Owens Avenue and Bruce Street, just to the north of the ballpark. "That's your central point - Woodlawn Cemetery."

It wasn't until the words left his mouth that the first piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Oh, God!" He inhaled sharply as a snippet from a long forgotten conversation flashed through his mind and, spinning suddenly, his eyes darted wildly around the other three walls. "Where's the email?"

"The one the killer sent you?" Swinging his arm up and round, Hodges pointed towards the back wall. "It's pinned up over there."

Grissom was around the table in seconds and quickly yanked the sheet of A4 paper from its place on the wall. He read it quickly, scanning through the main body of it until he got the end. "Oh, shit!"

"What?" Concerned by both the tone and Grissom's rapidly paling complexion, Hodges shot to his feet. "What is it?"

"Get Galetti."

"Uh, he's not supposed to know I'm here, remember." Hodges pointed out. "In fact, he's one of the people you were actually hiding me from."

"Don't worry about that, it's not important anymore." Eyes locked on one single line, Grissom spoke without looking up. "Just go and get him for me, okay?"

The sound of Hodges speaking washed over him unheard as he read and reread the words in front of him.

"Grissom?" Raising his voice slightly, the tech finally succeeded in gaining his attention. "I said what will I tell him."

"Simple, David." Placing the printout almost reverently on the tabletop, Grissom smoothed out the creases his tightly clenched fist had created as the full implications of his new-found knowledge played out in his head. "Tell him I know who the killer is."

TBC


	45. Chapter 45

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 45**

"Now, see..." Tipping the can up to his mouth, John Grogan took a hearty swig of the amber fluid it contained before continuing on. "That's the thing about today's criminals that disappoints me the most – they're just so dumb." Completely relaxed on his favorite sun-lounger, he adjusted his sunglasses against the glare of the late afternoon light. "Ninety-nine times out of a hundred you find yourself dealing with morons instead of masterminds and, for the most part, they make the job just too damned easy."

He'd been drinking most of the afternoon; the built-up heat of the tiny rented workshop and the excitement of the day's ballgame all but forcing him to crack open his first can of Budweiser just a little after 2pm but, thanks to both the exertions of the day and his higher than normal tolerance for alcohol, the effects were only just becoming noticeable.

"That armed robber last week couldn't have made it any easier if he'd tried." Seated opposite his friend, Grissom smiled at the memory of the case that had taken up a whole hour of his time. "Apart from the fact that he didn't bother wearing gloves or a disguise when he held up the jewelry store, the blood trail he left behind after he slipped and sliced through his femoral artery with his own knife pretty much made it an open and shut case."

"Well, it's definitely shut for him considering he ended up in the morgue.' John chuckled. Assigned solely to Homicide, he'd had no reason to attend the scene but the two young detectives that had had been regaling the entire department with the tale ever since "Just goes to prove my point now, doesn't it; they're all as stupid as each other."

Raising his own can to his lips, Grissom sipped at the now warm contents as he reflected on the day the two men had shared.

An unexpected spike in the city's crime figures had seen the Hennepin County sheriff declare a crackdown and both PD and the crime lab had been the ones to bear the brunt of the new hard line attitude. Things had been so hectic over the past few weeks that a day of for one of them was a rare occurrence but to both be off was nothing short of a miracle and they'd decided early on to make the most of what could, very well, turn out to be their last free time together. After a morning on the golf course, they'd spent most of the afternoon stripping the rusted coolant system out of the Mustang with the radio cranked high as the Twins trounced the Orioles seven to three and now, tired and content, they were winding up the day with an impromptu barbeque in the Grogan's small backyard.

"So, what is it that you're after, John?" Wine glass in hand, Elaine stepped out through the back door. Throwing together a last-minute salad, she'd spent the past fifteen minutes listening through the open kitchen window to her husband's steadily growing list of complaints concerning the apparently dubious caliber of the current crop of Minnesotan criminals. "Your own personal Moriarty?"

"Moriarty?" Turning at the sound of his wife's voice, the detective couldn't hide the adoration on his face as he quickly pondered the question. "No, but a challenge every now and then might be nice." Upending his can, he downed the last few dregs of beer. "Let's face it, most murders aren't that hard to crack; take a close enough look at the vic's family and friends and you'll usually turn up their killer." Turning round again, he shrugged. "You, at least, have to work a little harder with stranger murders but, even then, there's usually a connection somewhere that'll lead you to a suspect." Running his finger around the top of the can, he sighed deeply. "The problem is that most of Minnesota still seems to have that 'small town' feel to it and you just don't get big city crime in a small town." Shrugging off the sudden case of ennui, John grinned as he reached across and swatted at his young friend's arm. "Not that that'll bother you for much longer, eh? A quick trip down the aisle and then you're off to LA." Dropping his arm down the side of the lounger, he felt around on the ground for his cigarette packet and, finally snagging it, fumbled it open only to discover it was empty. "I got to tell you, Gil, there's a part of me that would kill to come along with you." Pushing up out of the lounger, he held up the empty can in his hand. "You want another one?"

"No, thanks; I'm fine with this." Glancing down at the can he'd been nursing for the past hour, Grissom shook his head. "I've still got to drive home, remember? Amy said she'd be through at her folk's place at around 7:30 so I promised to pick her up on the way."

"Suit yourself." Feigning annoyance, John crumpled the cigarette packet in his fist as he headed back towards the house. "But you're seriously letting the side down, buddy; she's got you walking to heel before she's even got the ring on her finger." Nearing the door, he turned again and, fixing his wife with the most disarming smile he could muster, continued to address his soon to be married friend. "If you're as smart as I think you are, Gil you'll get the upper hand and make sure she knows who's boss sooner rather than later; you've got to keep 'em in their place, you know?"

"And if you're a smart as _I_ think you are, you'll ignore everything he just said; it'll only end up getting you into trouble." With a censorious glare at her husband's rapidly disappearing back, Elaine settled herself comfortably in the chair beside Grissom's. "Not long now, huh? What is it; a fortnight until the big day?"

"Two week and two days." He told with a nod. "Amy and her mom were spending today making sure they've got everything covered; they're determined to make sure that things go exactly to plan."

"They won't, they never do." She graced him with a knowing grin. "It doesn't matter how much planning you do, something will always go wrong." Reaching across, she placed an affectionate hand on his arm. "So, nerves kicking in yet?"

"About the wedding?" Grissom shook his head. "No, not really, if anything, it just feels kind of surreal."

Elaine frowned at the admission. She had more than her fair share of misgivings about the upcoming nuptials; for the sake of their relationship with Grissom, she and John had gone out of their way to try and befriend the young woman but each and every attempt had been rebuffed and the more time they'd spent with her the more convinced they'd both become that she was not the right girl for their friend. The pregnancy had shocked them but nowhere near as much as Grissom's absolute determination to marry the mother of his child but if he was having second thoughts now was definitely the time to do something about them.

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Raising her glass to her lips, she took a small sip of Riesling and let the question register. "I mean, times have changed, Gil; you don't have to marry a woman just because she's pregnant."

"I know that." Coming from almost anyone else, the query would have sparked offence but he knew she was asking it for the right reasons and he hurried to set her mind at rest. "But, in this case, I want to; I really do." He sighed deeply. "I lost my dad when I was nine, Elaine and if I learned anything from that it's how important it is for a child to know its father; I certainly can't promise her that I'll live forever but I intend doing everything I can to make sure that I'm there for every single milestone in my daughter's life and marrying her mother is the logical way to accomplish that."

"Even though you don't love her?" Setting her glass down, Elaine locked eyes with his. "That kind of relationship never works, Gil and you know it."

"I do love Amy though." Steadily holding her gaze, Grissom smiled. "Maybe not in the convention sense but who's to say that that won't come? She's carrying my daughter, Elaine; how could I not love her for that?"

Eyes narrowing, Elaine's lips quirked up in amusement. "Still determined that it's a girl, huh?"

"I know it is." Unable to stop himself, Grissom grinned proudly. "I talk to her at night when Amy's asleep; I place my hand over the top of her and tell her everything she needs to know; about me, about her mother - I can't wait to start teaching her all about the world she's coming into."

"Well..." Reaching for her glass again, Elaine relaxed against the back of her chair. "I'm not entirely convinced that you know what you're getting yourself into marrying that girl but..." She met his grin with one of her own. "I have absolutely no doubt that you're going to make a wonderful father." She chuckled. "I just hope you're not too disappointed if it turns out to be a boy."

"Hey..." With a fresh can of Bud in one hand and a lit cigarette between the fingers of the other, John stumbled slightly as he made his way back into the yard. "I've worked out what it is we need." Waving grandly in Grissom's direction, he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "We need either a cop or a CSI to go dark side on us." Nodding determinedly, he lowered himself down onto the lounger. "Cause, let's face it, we're probably the only ones that could do the damned thing properly anyway." Shoving the cigarette between his lips, he used both hands to open the can as he continued talking. "I was actually thinking I could do it myself." Looking up from his task, he winked conspiratorially at his friend. "They'll probably be kicking me out of the department in ten or twelve years time; I'm going to need a hobby of some kind."

"And that's your great retirement plan, is it?" With a melodramatic roll of her eyes, Elaine sighed. "You want to cap off forty years in law enforcement by switching sides."

"Why not?" Looking across at her, John smiled ingenuously. "It could be fun."

"And you could be drunk." Elaine knew what he was doing; he'd spent almost every day of their marriage trying to wind her up over one thing or another but tonight she wasn't in the mood and, pushing to her feet, she gestured towards the small gas barbeque she'd had him pull out of the garage earlier. "I'm going to get the steaks on; if we leave it much longer, we'll be sending Gil's home with him in a take-out bag."

"I shouldn't really bait her like that, should I?" Smile softening, John watched his wife move across to the grill before turning back and raising his can. "Still, it _might_ be fun to see if I could pull it off."

"What?" Surprised by the almost wistful quality of the comment, Grissom frowned. "Murdering someone?"

"Not just someone." John confided. "I was thinking more along the lines of multiple someones." Swinging his legs off the lounger, he perched on the edge as he laid out his plan. "If I was going to do it then I'd want to do it properly and they say that the hardest ones to catch are the serials." Dropping his cigarette, he ground it out on the grass. "I figure the best thing to do is take a lesson from the past, back when killers knew how _not_ to get caught."

"But they only got away with it back then because they didn't have the equipment and resources that we've got today." Grissom told him. "But I thought the challenge you wanted was all to do with catching a killer, John not actually becoming one."

"It was but don't you think this would be more interesting?" Leaning forward, the detective smiled drunkenly. "Imagine it, Gil; I could be out looking for victims while you were out looking for me." The smile widened. "We could turn the whole damned city into a giant hunting ground; it'd be a regular battlefield."

"I told you he was drunk." Stepping back from the grill, Elaine dropped her hand on Grissom's shoulder and used him for balance as she leaned across to grab her glass.

"You're right." Grissom chuckled. "He is."

"Yep." Unable to deny it, John just nodded. "Drunk and fantasizing but..." He held up a finger. "If I ever did become a serial killer, you are definitely the one I would want chasing me down." Reaching over, he clapped Grissom on the arm. "What do you say, buddy? You on one side and me on the other; we could really show them how it ought to be done."

"I'm sure we could." With the light beginning to fade and the first faint aromas of barbequing meat wafting through the yard, Grissom realized for the first time just how much the friends he'd made here had come to mean to him and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was actually doing the right thing by leaving Minnesota. "Okay, you're on; the minute you kick off your crime spree, I'll be on your tail.

"You wish!" John scoffed, his face breaking into a satisfied smirk. "Ten to one says I've got a trail of bodies behind me before you even work out who I am." Beer clasped firmly in his hand, he held it out in front of him and waited for Grissom to do the same before tapping the two cans together. "Happy hunting, Gil."

* * *

The whirr of an electric motor snapped him back to the present and Grissom stared out through the rain-spotted windscreen as Galetti identified them both to the two young agents on roadblock duty.

The street up ahead looked pretty much as he'd expected it to; from the white utility tent erected between numbers 1611 and 1613 to the small group of coverall-clad workmen that were currently conferring around the nearest storm drain, it all looked perfectly normal. Lights seemed to be on in almost every residence and, as requested in the hand-delivered flyers, as many vehicles as possible had been parked on their owner's properties as opposed to being left on the street. There were still a few cars parked here and there along the road but, for the most part, Mountainside Drive was clear.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, one of the agents pulled the barricade blocking the entrance to the side as his partner radioed their arrival to a contact up ahead and, as Grissom watched, one of the workers disengaged himself from the group and began strolling, nonchalantly, along the middle of the road.

It was only when he was sure that he was out of sight of the Grogan house that Frank Harris broke stride and began to run.

Shucking the seatbelts off their shoulders, both Grissom and Galetti had their doors open and were standing at the front of the Bureau-issued Impala as the now out of breath agent came to halt before them. Ignoring his superior, Harris instantly turned all his attention to Grissom.

"You manage to get through to them yet?"

"No, both phones have been turned off. I've left messages for them both but-" As if on cue, his cell phone rang and Grissom quickly snatched it from his pocket. Staring at the small screen, he recognized neither the calling number nor its area code and, without so much as a second though, jabbed his finger at the reject key and snapped the handset shut.

"Are you positive that it's her though?" Not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice, Harris jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards the suspect's house. "I mean, I was all over that place the other day and she never even blinked an eyelid."

"Yes she did." Grissom told him remembering Elaine's preoccupation as the house had been inspected. "I just read it wrong. There were only three of us in that yard when John said what he did; I'm here, he's dead so that only leaves Elaine."

"But is her husband really dead?" It was one of the first thoughts to cross Galetti's mind as he'd listened with growing dread to Grissom's rapid-fire exposition in the layout room but this was the first time he'd dared voice it. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time someone's faked their own death."

"And then waited four years to carry out their plan?" Unable to help himself, Grissom scoffed at the absurdity of the question. "John's dead, Galetti; I saw him at the hospital myself." Pausing for a moment, he drew in a deep steadying breath; the sense of shocked wonder that had enveloped him back at the lab had faded during the drive across town to be replaced by a mixture of equal parts anger and fear - two emotions that weren't going to do any of them, but particularly Sara and Catherine, any good at this particular moment in time. Letting the breath out again, he felt himself calm and tightened his resolve to keep his emotions under control. "Besides..." Both shoulders hitched up in a small shrug. "John was half drunk and joking around when he said that; he never would have actually done it."

"But his wife would?" Harris frowned.

"Obviously." Frustrated and impatient, Grissom absently rubbed at his temple as his gaze locked on the driveway of 1613. "Look, it has to be her; it _can't_ be anybody else. "

"Well, just in case, I left a message asking Dr. Robbins to pull the death certificate anyway." As Grissom turned, Galetti shrugged apologetically. "It's not that I don't believe you it's just that we have to be one hundred percent sure." Glancing at his watch, he checked the time. "We should be hearing from him any minute now." He switched his attention to his second-in-command. "So, what are we doing about the neighbors?"

"We're moving them out as quickly and as quietly as we can." Turning, Harris pointed back along the road. "The houses opposite are easy enough, we're just herding those people out through the back but the ones on either side of the suspect's house are a little more difficult; we have to be careful that we don't tip her off."

Galetti nodded. "And our guys are in place?"

"They've positioned themselves as close as possible but it's not as close as I'd like; the way she's got those damned sensor lights set up, one false step and we'll light up the entire area. I was actually thinking about creating a blackout; if we can cut power to the street for a minute or two we should be able to get an entry team in pretty close to the house." He spun towards Grissom. "Which reminds me; what do you suggest we do about your friend parked in the driveway?"

Grissom frowned at the question. "Jim hasn't noticed that something's going on yet?"

"Doesn't look that way." Harris told him. "From what I can see he's just sitting there watching the house."

"Well, the minute he finds out that he's just a few short feet away from his daughter's killer that's going to change real fast." Grissom sighed audibly. "We're going to have to come up with some kind of plausible excuse to get him out of there."

"I suggest we think of one quickly then because I'm not sure-" Galetti broke off as his phone rang and, holding it up, he smiled approvingly at the displayed number. "Dr. Robbins; thanks for getting back to me." He fell silent for a moment as he listened to the coroner speak and then nodded as he glanced in Grissom's direction. "Sure, he's right beside me; hang on and I'll put you on speaker." Holding the handset out, he pressed a key. "How's that?"

"Perfect." Although a little tinny sounding, Al Robbins' voice came across loud and clear. "You there, Gil?"

"Yeah, Al." Grissom looked from one agent to the other as he stepped a little closer to the phone. "I'm here."

"I checked your friend's death certificate like Agent Galetti asked me to and I think there's something you ought to know."

"Grogan's definitely dead?" Harris butted in impatiently.

"He certainly is." Robbins confirmed. "He was declared dead on arrival in the ER at Desert Palm at 1:47pm on April 3rd, 2003. They called it as a cardiac arrest but because he had no known history of heart problems and he was alone at the time of his collapse, the case was referred to the coroner's office so we actually have a file on him here." The sound of rustling paper came across the line as he flicked through it to find the autopsy report. "Howard Taylor was the dayshift coroner at the time and he confirmed that COD was a massive coronary due to arteriosclerosis; according to the report, Grogan's arteries were so occluded that he was really nothing more than a walking time bomb."

"I knew all of that, Al." Voice flat, Grissom sighed. "I was with Elaine when Taylor went over the results of the autopsy with her."

"Yes, Howard mentioned that in his notes but when he met with the two of you that day he didn't actually have _all_ of the results in."

"What do you mean?" Galetti frowned. "What was he missing?"

"Well, as I'm sure you know, routine blood samples are taken during every autopsy but, unless we're talking about a crime victim, the results on those samples can sometimes take a while to come back and that's what happened here." He took a deep breath and, hearing it, Grissom automatically tensed as he waited for whatever it was that Robbins was about to say. "And according to those results, John Grogan was HIV positive when he died."

TBC

**A/N:** The good news is that almost half of the next chapter is already done and the rest of it exists in note form so it shouldn't take me all that long to finish it off and get it ready for posting. The bad news is that I have another project in the works that's going to keep me occupied for the next couple of weeks at least so I'm not exactly sure when I'm going to be able to get around to it. I will try to keep the delay to a minimum though and, considering my posting record with this story, you might not even know I'm gone at all but I wanted to warn you all just in case.


	46. Chapter 46

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 46**

* * *

**A/N: **I may have mentioned in my last author's note that I wasn't sure when I'd be able to post next but even I didn't expect to go missing for this long; a combination of organizational issues and a fairly major case of writer's block conspired against me but I'm hoping I've got both of those under control now so it should be full steam ahead from here on out.

This is little shorter than I usually like my chapters (we'll be back to normal length with the next one) and it's really just a quick reminder of what we were up to before I so rudely disappeared but it's probably the first thing I've written in 4 months that I'm even remotely comfortable with so, for better or worse, here it is. :)

* * *

"Hey, Sara." Struggling against the almost overwhelming fear that now gripped him, Grissom fought to keep the timbre of his voice perfectly neutral as he paced back and forth in front of the silver Impala. "The minute you get this message, I need you to phone me back, okay?" Glancing briefly to his right, he watched the familiar countenance of Nick Stokes morph quickly from concern to shock as Paul Galetti brought the newly-arrived CSI and his two colleagues up to speed. "It's important, honey so call me as soon as you can."

Pulling his cell phone from his ear, he speed-dialed Catherine's number and listened, once again, to the voicemail greeting before leaving similar instructions for her. He knew he wouldn't get a reply, after all, neither woman had responded to any of his earlier messages but making the calls at least gave him the feeling of doing something constructive – something other than standing there, helpless, in the middle of Mountainside Drive.

Turning his back on the small group gathered beside the Denali, Grissom stared along the quiet street up ahead: set back slightly from the road and currently obscured by a neighboring hedge, the house at 1613 was itself impossible to see but he could make out part of the driveway as well as what looked like the back third of Jim's black Dodge.

Harris's men were still in place around the storm drain out the front, their attention seemingly riveted to the current state of the area's sewers but, every thirty seconds or so, a head would raise as it's owner 'casually' glanced over in the direction of the Grogan home hoping, he knew, for either movement or sound from the so far silent house. There was no real need for the charade now that the neighbors had been evacuated but any obvious changes to the 'script' that had been devised to cover the FBI's presence in the area would, in all likelihood, tip off Elaine to the fact that they'd uncovered the Ripper's true identity and Grissom knew that that was something both Harris and Galetti hoped to avoid for as long as humanly possible.

Fingers tightening unconsciously around the cell phone in his hand, he gnawed on his bottom lip as he continued to watch the group of men. While their behavior was not overtly out of character for a surveillance operation, it wasn't exactly what you'd call textbook and he wondered why Brass hadn't yet noticed that something else was going on; the detective was usually quick when it came to picking up on atmospheric changes, subtle or otherwise, in an investigation and, with the personal edge that this one had taken on recently, Grissom felt sure that the detective should have clicked by now.

A quick flash of bright halogen headlights up ahead caught his eye and he stared, transfixed, as the all-too familiar bulk of one of the city's ambulances pulled up against the curb at the far end of the cordoned off street. It was followed almost immediately by a second and Grissom wiped his hand nervously across his mouth as he sent a silent plea skyward that neither the vehicles themselves nor the highly trained professionals that they contained would be needed before the nightmare that this night had become was over.

Without warning, a hand landed squarely on his shoulder and, startled out of his thoughts, he spun at the unexpected touch.

"Sorry, Griss." Taking a quick, precautionary step backwards, Warrick offered his boss an embarrassed, apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to scare you; I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine." Letting loose the breath that had caught in his throat, Grissom nodded distractedly. "Or, at least, I will be as soon as we get them out of there." Turning back around again, he cocked his chin in the direction of the house. "How did I not see this, Warrick? I've spent the past few days going over and over everything that we have and I never saw a damned thing."

"_We_..." Warrick placed a deliberate emphasis on the first word, "didn't see it because we weren't looking for it; both the evidence and the odds were pointing towards a male killer so that's what we were expecting to find." The strident ringing of a cell phone erupted behind him and, glancing briefly over his shoulder, Warrick watched as Galetti stepped back slightly from the others to take the incoming call. "There was nothing on those walls that screamed female suspect and certainly nothing that that would have pointed us towards Elaine Grogan."

"Maybe not her specifically." Grissom grudgingly conceded. "But we should have picked up on the pattern at least; after all, Hodges got it under ten minutes."

"Hodges lucked out." Warrick stated with conviction. "He went in there with fresh eyes and his usual sycophantic need to impress and all but fell over one of _the_ most obscure clues we're probably ever going to come across." Leaning back against the Impala, he casually crossed one ankle over the other as he let the car's fender take most of his weight. "And, believe me, _tha_t is something he is never going to let us forget."

"Yeah well, right now, I'd quite happily give him bragging rights for the next ten years at least," Grissom told him, stepping back to join the younger man beside the car. "Provided we get Sara and Catherine out of there unharmed."

With an almost reluctant nod of agreement, Warrick flicked the last remnants of the night's rain from his hair and as he wondered how best to phrase his next query. "So..." Turning slightly, he examined his boss's profile carefully. "You think she's positive too?"

It was a question that had been running through Grissom's head almost non-stop since Al Robbins' phone call and, taking a deep breath, he answered as honestly as possible. "I'd be surprised if she wasn't." He sighed heavily. "If John had HIV then I think it's a pretty fair assumption that Elaine does too."

"Did he give it to her though or did she give it to him?" Warrick frowned as he mentally flicked though the possibilities. "I mean, she's spent years around working girls, right? Maybe she came into contact with contaminated blood or something."

"Perhaps." Eyes locked firmly on the driveway up ahead, Grissom's shoulders rose in a guarded shrug. "But I have a funny feeling that is not the way it went down."

Approaching footsteps sounded behind them and both men turned as Paul Galetti and Frank Harris stepped into view.

"Hey guys." Pausing briefly, Galetti nodded at both CSIs before directing all his attention at Grissom. "We're just heading down to check up on our men, okay? We'll grab a quick report, see what's what and then maybe we can come to a decision about the best way to handle this thing."

"We won't be long." Harris assured them. "Ten minutes, fifteen tops."

"It's weird, isn't it?" Readjusting his lanky frame against the the sedan, Warrick kept his eyes locked on the two agents as they casually sauntered back along the road. "Every time we've worked with the Feds in the past they've rushed at things like bulls in a china shop but, looking at those two now, you'd think they had all the time in the world."

"I think maybe they do." Stepping in beside his colleagues, Nick nodded derisively towards the group of men up ahead. "That call Galetti got was from their ops center in Washington. I couldn't make out all of what was said, he made a point of moving out of earshot when he realized Greg and I were listening in, but from the gist of things, I'm pretty sure he's been ordered to do nothing until they can get a negotiator and one of their tactical teams out here."

"And, while the tac team isn't a problem," Greg added. "it looks like the nearest negotiator's in LA." He shrugged helplessly as he looked from Grissom to Warrick and then back again. "They're working on rushing him out here but I overheard Harris say it'll be another hour and a half at least until he arrives."

"That's too long." Stunned by the revelation, Warrick stared. "Catherine and Sara may not have that kind of time."

"They won't." Roughly pushing himself off the car, Grissom started to pace. "Elaine's followed the Ripper's blueprint to the letter up 'til now and the fact that the FBI are standing outside waiting for a negotiator is not going to stop her carrying out tonight's double." He shook his head firmly. "No, if we're going to get them out of there, we have to do it now; we can't afford to wait another ninety minutes."

Snapping open the cell phone in his hand, he quickly scrolled through the menu until he hit the phonebook.

Hyper-aware of the suddenly charged atmosphere that surrounded them, Nick frowned warily at his boss. "What are you doing?"

"The only thing I can do." Coming to a halt in front of his team, Grissom quickly thumbed through the long alphabetized contacts list. "The FBI won't help us so we've got to help ourselves."

Locating the name he was after, he hit the call button and placed the handset to his ear as he waited for the connection to go through. It took only seconds to do so and the line rang exactly four times before it was picked up.

"Good evening, Gil." Elaine Grogan's voice was the epitome of friendliness as she greeted her long-time friend. "I wondered how long it would take you to work it all out."

TBC


	47. Chapter 47

**Shadow Play**

**Chapter 47**

"What have you done, Elaine?" Taken aback by the convivial yet knowing tone of the greeting, the carefully crafted preamble Grissom had been planning to use was instantly discarded in favor of the shocked outrage he'd been suppressing ever since the identity of the killer had come to light. "What the hell have you done?"

"I don't really need to explain it to you, do I?" The question was laced with teasing amusement and Grissom cringed as he held the cell phone tightly against his ear. "Really Gil, I always thought you were a much better CSI than that."

"You don't need to explain anything." Turning his back to the cordoned off street, he took a quick breath and reined his emotions back under control. "What you do need to do is put either Catherine or Sara on the phone so I can speak to them."

A slight chuckle came across the line. "I don't think that's really going to be possible at the moment, they're both a little busy so I guess you're just going to have to content yourself with me."

Despite the almost coquettish banter, Elaine's voice dripped with a cold menace that Grissom never would have imagined her capable of and a deep sense of dread filled him as he tentatively asked his next question. "Are they still alive?"

"They were the last time I checked in on them..." She paused a moment allowing her words to sink in. "... but that was a good fifteen minutes ago; anything could have happened since then."

Pulling the handset away from his face, he exhaled slowly as his mind dissected the sentence he'd just heard. Delivered with the selfsame glibness that Elaine had used with every other statement, the words should have been terrifying but instead, he quickly decided, he'd just been given his first real ray of hope. If she'd followed her usual m.o. – The Ripper's m.o. – then she'd know, without a shadow of a doubt, whether or not Sara and Catherine were dead and he had no doubt that she'd be boasting about it but she wasn't and that, he concluded, could only mean she'd deviated from the script. If they'd been alive fifteen minutes ago then there was at least a chance that they were still alive now and that possibility strengthened his resolve to get this damn thing over with sooner rather than later.

"Griss?" Standing opposite, shoulder to shoulder with Warrick and Greg, Nick shifted anxiously as he frowned in concern at his boss. "Are they or aren't they?"

The question instantly snapped Grissom back to the matter in hand and, realizing he was still holding onto an open phone line, he shot the three younger men what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he raised the handset once again to his ear.

"Look, Elaine..." Spinning back around to face the street, he stared at the assembled group of men clustered together further down the block. "The FBI is set on bringing in a negotiator and a tactical team to handle things here tonight, they're on their way now, and knowing these guys as well as I do, I imagine all hell is going to break loose the minute they get here." He fell silent, waiting for a reaction, but when none was forthcoming, he carried on hopefully. "I don't want to see this turned into a circus and I really don't think you'd want that either." He took a breath. "In fact, I think it would be much better if _we_ worked this out ourselves, don't you? After all, we've known each other for years now; surely, between the two of us, we can come up with someway to have this whole thing end peacefully."

"And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?" The tone was still smug but he'd definitely piqued her interest.

"Simple." Up ahead, Harris and Galetti broke away from their men and turned to make their way back and Grissom knew he'd have to hurry this up; experience told him that the only way to get something like this by the FBI was to present them with a fait accompli and that's precisely what he intended to do. "All you have to do is open up the door and let me in."

* * *

Dropping the last of her plastic medication vials into the kitchen trash, Elaine reached back into the almost empty cupboard and felt around for the sealed envelopes she'd stashed away there months ago. Pulling them out, she placed all three almost reverently on the countertop before her and stared at them for a moment before separating one from the others and, with a sigh of regret, balled it up and let it, too, fall into the chrome-plated bin. It was unfortunate that she hadn't managed to get around to amending it's contents but, if everything tonight went according to plan, what was laid out on the single sheet of paper inside would be meaningless anyway.

Closing the cupboard, she bent and slid the small trashcan back into its usual place then carried the two remaining envelopes across to the breakfast bar and scribbled across the front of each before propping them up against the large fruit bowl. Taking a handful of steps backwards, she made sure their presence would be noticed and then quickly moved onto the next step in her preparation.

Dragging one of the heavy bar stools around to the other side of the large granite counter, she angled it just so, ensuring that she had a clear view through the small mud room to the deadlocked access door beyond then, making her way across the slate floor, she cautiously turned the key, twisted the doorknob and stepped out into the garage itself.

Silently stepping across to the big roller door, Elaine manually unlocked it then made her way back into the house and, leaving the access door slightly ajar, crossed the floor once again to take up a position on the black leather stool. She heaved a sigh of satisfaction as she made herself comfortable, her mind tripping back over the events of what had turned out to be a very constructive day but it wasn't quite over yet, there was still one more thing she had to do.

Keeping her eyes locked on the open door, she stretched her arm out to the right, her hand landing almost instantly on the loaded USP and, pulling it across into her lap, she settled back to await her final guest.

* * *

"You can't seriously think we're just going to stand here and let you do this." Hands planted firmly on his hips, Agent Harris's anger and frustration was clear as he glared at the man in front of him. "You've already blundered your way into one situation, Grissom; you are not going to do it with another!"

"The way I see it, you don't have much choice." Shrugging out of his department-issue vest, Grissom folded it in half and laid it neatly on the Impala's hood. "That's my people in there, Harris and we need to do something to get them out now _no_t in ninety minutes time when you negotiator turns up." Running his hand over his pockets, he quickly extracted his cell phone, wallet and a handful of loose change and piled the lot on top of the vest. "This isn't a FBI investigation anyway, remember; I may have been dealing with a skull fracture at the time but I clearly remember Galetti saying that the Bureau had no intention of taking over this case, you were here solely to render assistance and nothing more; it was supposed to be ours from beginning to end."

"If we want to take over we damn well will!" Harris asserted, his mood worsening by the minute. "You are not going in there, Grissom, not if I have anything to do with it."

"Back off, Frank." Snapping his cell phone shut, Galetti stepped across to join the two men. "He's right, we made a deal when we signed on for this thing and we're not going to renege on it now." He held up his phone. "Sam Vega is still the lead on this investigation and, although he isn't thrilled at the thought of anyone going in there, he has agreed to it in principle." Turning slightly, he directed his full attention towards Grissom. "Provided you agree to wear a wire."

"Uh-uh." With a determined shake of the head, Grissom vetoed the idea. "That was part of the agreement I made with Elaine: no weapons, no cell phones and, definitely, no wires. She was a cop's wife for a lot of years, Paul and she knows how these things work; she won't hesitate to search me and I hate to think what she'd do if she found something on me I wasn't supposed to have."

"You don't _have_ to do this, you know." The polar opposite of his partner, Galetti seemed genuinely unflustered by the night's event. "I agree that an hour and a half is too long to wait for our negotiator to get here but both Frank and I had some training in situational mediation and I'm sure between the two of us we can-"

Despite the circumstances, Grissom couldn't help but smile. "You know, it would almost be worth it just to get the chance to see if Harris here is actually capable of being tactful for a change but the impression I got was that Elaine wasn't in the least bit interested in talking to the FBI so, sorry but that's a no-go too." Sobering, he looked from one man to the other. "I'm the one responsible for Catherine and Sara being in there in the first place and I'm going to be the one that's gets them out; it's as simple as that."

"I know you're convinced that Willows and Sidle are still alive in that house and for all we know you could be right." Leaning back against the car's front fender, Harris crossed both arms casually across his chest as he stared fixedly at Grissom. "But what's to stop Grogan killing you?" He shrugged. "I mean, her possible HIV status might explain why she started going after hookers but, unless there's something you're not telling us, we still have no idea why she began to target you."

"I haven't been holding anything back." Grissom assured him. "I'm in the dark on that one just like the rest of you but, I can't help thinking that, if Elaine truly wanted to kill me," He held up his splinted left hand. "She's had ample opportunities to knock me off before this." He shook his head. "She won't try to do anything to me, she wants to talk, she made that much clear and just as soon as she let's me see Catherine and Sara _and_ let's me get them out of there, she can speak to me all she likes."

"And after she's said all she wants to say?" Harris cocked a single eyebrow in question. "What happens then?"

"Then it's my turn to talk and I'm going to do everything possible to get her to give herself up and end this peacefully."

"You really think you can do that?" Galetti asked skeptically.

"I'll give it my best shot." Grissom checked at his watch. "It's almost half past; I better get going."

"You're going in through the garage, right?" Having stayed clear of the conversation up till now, Nick stepped forward to address his boss.

"That's right." Grissom confirmed. "I'm to let myself in and lock the garage door behind me and then enter the house through the interior door; Elaine said she'd be waiting for me in the kitchen."

"And what about Brass?" Greg piped up. "What are you going to tell him?"

"Not the truth, that's for sure." Grissom quickly ran through all the options before deciding on the quickest and easiest. "I'll just tell him I've dropped by to check on everyone and suggest that he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs for a while; he's been cooped up in that sedan for over three hours now so he'll probably be glad to take a break." He glanced quickly over his shoulder towards the driveway. "Someone's going to have to grab him the moment he's out of sight of the house though _and_ make sure that he doesn't get the chance to go back there either. As soon as he finds out exactly who Elaine is he's going to be out for blood."

"I can do that." Warrick was quick to volunteer. "I'll wait in the neighbor's yard until he's clear and then hustle him out the area before he clicks to what's going on." He glanced quickly at his two teammates. "I think between the three of us we can keep him out of trouble."

"Well, it shouldn't take him too long to work it all out." Harris commented. "The minute that garage door goes down again, we'll be moving all of our guys in closer to tighten up the perimeter; since she now knows that we're on to her, there's not really any point in being subtle."

"Well, now that that's settled..." This time it was Galetti's turn to check his watch before he looked over at Grissom. "I suggest you start making your way up there; you don't want to keep the lady waiting."

* * *

Turning in off the sidewalk, Grissom glanced curiously at the shadowy outline of Elaine Grogan's home as he started up the slight incline of the driveway.

The house appeared to be in darkness, the large picture window that looked out onto the street now obscured by, he guessed, the heavy block-out drapes he'd vaguely noticed when she'd first shown him around the place. There were no other windows on the near side of the house, the only other features being an ornate porch light and the solid timber door that it illuminated and, passing these by, he made a beeline for the black Dodge parked squarely in the middle of the drive.

In the late evening light, it was all but impossible to see in through the darkly tinted windows but, as the first of the sensors lights reacted to his presence, Grissom could just make out the silhouetted shape of the man in the front seat and the breath caught in his throat as he realized why it was that Brass had failed to react to the unusual activity out in the street.

"Oh, shit!" Rounding the tail end of the vehicle, he quickly made his way to the driver's door and, as a second security light flared, wrenched it open and leant in to discover the true nature of his friend's condition.

"Come on, Jim." Pressing his fingers in against the detective's neck, he searched frantically for a pulse. "Don't do this to me, buddy; please God, don't do this now."

He vaguely heard the paling fence behind him shake followed by a heavy thud and, moments later, Warrick was pushing in at his side.

"He still with us?" Squatting down, the younger man looked on with concern.

"Yeah." Finally feeling a faint throb beneath his fingertips, Grissom heaved a sigh of relief. "His pulse is slow and weak but it's definitely there." Pulling his hand back, he wiped it anxiously across his mouth as he stared at his unconscious friend. "What the hell has she done to him?"

"Well..." Scanning what he could see of Brass's body, Warrick shook his head. "There doesn't seem to be any blood so I guess that's a good sign but, from the looks of things, he's completely out if it." He shrugged. "If I was going to take a guess I'd say she's drugged him but as for how she managed it-"

"According to Galetti's men, she brought a meal out to him about an hour after they all got here." Reaching in past Jim, Grissom fumbled for the seat belt release. "Which probably means he's been sitting out here like this for over two hours now." Finally getting the belt free, he allowed it to retract into its housing before taking a one-handed grip of the detective's shirt. "Help me haul him out of here, Warrick; we need to get him to get him to a medic."

"You don't have time for that." Pushing Grissom's hand out of the way, Warrick slipped both of his beneath Jim's arms and carefully pulled him free of the Dodge. Lowering him to the ground, he checked his pulse and breathing again before nodding in the direction of the garage door. "You've got to get inside, Griss; she's going to be waiting for you."

"I can't just leave him like this though." Kneeling beside Brass, Grissom pulled a single eyelid back, the pinpoint pupil beneath confirming Warrick's earlier speculation.

"Of course you can, I'll take care of him." Cocking his thumb back over his shoulder, Warrick gestured vaguely away from the house. "All I'll have to do is get him clear of this place and then I'll have Nick come up and help me carry him down; we'll have him loaded in the back of an ambulance and on his way Desert Palm before you know it."

"You sure?" All too aware that time was running short, Grissom was anxious to get into the house but leaving his unconscious friend out here, even if he was in Warrick's more than capable hands, was not something he was comfortable with.

"I'm positive." Satisfied that Brass was no immediate danger, Warrick turned his full attention on his boss. "Now go, Griss; Sara and Catherine need you more than Jim does just now."

"Yeah, of course; you're right." Pushing to his feet, Grissom glanced over at the closed garage door before turning back. "Wait until I'm inside, okay? There's less chance of her knowing you're up here if she's busy dealing with me."

"You got it." Grasping his patient beneath the arms again, Warrick hoisted him up as he watched Grissom head towards the large metal door. "Good luck, Griss."

"Thanks." With a somewhat uneasy smile of appreciation, Grissom reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cold steel handle. "I just hope to hell..." He thought to himself as he gave it a tug and felt the door begin to rise. "... that I'm not going to need it."

Moments later, his back pressed firmly against the wall beside the open interior door, Grissom took a moment to glance around the now near-empty garage.

The red Nissan Sentra was there but all that remained of the piles of boxes that used to decorate the back wall was a single pair, their tops taped closed, sitting side by side on the concrete in the corner. They were close enough to him, and enough light shone through from the house, that he could easily make out the words printed clearly on both cartons: Special Agent Harris.

Grissom frowned at the unexpected inscription but, knowing he had neither the time nor inclination to even guess at an explanation, he turned his attention instead towards the access door, reaching out carefully and pushing it wide. Pulling his hand back, he stood still for almost a full minute, listening intently for any kind of noise coming from the house but, when all remained silent, he eased himself inside and turned to quietly click the door shut.

"Now lock it."

The command came from not far behind him and glancing back over his shoulder, he froze at the sight of the gun in her hand.

"I mean it, Gil." Shifting her arm slightly, Elaine carefully took aim. "Lock that door right now."

"Okay." Raising his splinted hand in a placatory gesture, Grissom used the other to twist the deadlock into place before turning back to face the woman behind him. "What's -"

He never got a chance to finish the question as, without even a moment's hesitation, Elaine calmly pulled the trigger.

TBC


End file.
